Here's Your Letter
by Kyoko Kasshu Minamino
Summary: Terry's Date with Destiny is interrupted when a ghost from his past resurfaces. Will this ruin his happily ever after or make him realize he might not have chosen the right one? Rated for some drug use, adult situations, and language. Post Epilogue
1. Date with Destiny

**Here's Your Letter**

**Author's Note**: Look. I appreciate the JLU writer's kindness in writing us a beautiful ending to the Batman Beyond series, but geez, him ending up with Dana? (Referring to _Justice League Unlimited_'s "Epilogue") That just chaps my Bat-briefs. I understand I am eighty billion years late with this fic, but I beg your forgiveness. I already know 2/3 of my fanfic friends are pissed at me but I hope this can come as a peace offering. I've been on Writer's Block for this fic since after "Epilogue" premiered and just got the feel for it back at the beginning of last month. I'm on Spring Break so hopefully I can renovate some of my other fics too. Enjoy this one, though. It picks up a week after the events of "Epilogue".

Kyoko

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He was going to do it.

The lights illuminating the darkened street cast shadows over the sleek, black hover car as it glided smoothly through a traffic light. He was actually going to do it.

He took a deep breath through his nose and breathed it out from his mouth, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as if he were trying to squeeze all of the tension from his body into the car. It didn't work.

"Get it together, McGinnis," he muttered to himself, eyes glued to the road as he spied the restaurant up ahead to his left.

Stalker? No problem. Curaré? A breeze. He could take down any villain in the Rogue's Gallery at any time but the thought of proposing to his long-time girlfriend made him as nervous as a twelve-year old girl going to her first dance? That was absurd. He was vengeance. He was the Night. He was…afraid?

Terry shook his head for what seemed like the zillionth time that evening, pulling into the parking lot a little less than a block from the restaurant. Bruce had provided him with reservations to a five-star Italian place but of course made him pay for the meal. Stubborn compromise, anyone?

He killed the engine and just sat there for a moment, laying his head back to stare at the ceiling of the car. It didn't do him much good; his heart was still beating in irregular patterns. He'd never thought this night would come, not in a million years.

"Marriage? Kids? I'm not the white-picket-fence kinda guy," he'd told Max once in his youth. His eyes softened a bit as nostalgia rolled around. Max was married with two sons and lived in California. She worked as a computer engineer and robotics advisor for a big company. They were still close friends even now but he did miss her. She'd known about his plans to marry Dana before he'd even told her. Women's intuition and all that.

As for Wayne, Terry knew his father wouldn't approve, but there was no way he'd disapprove either. Despite his cold exterior, Bruce didn't want Terry to end up as alone as he was. _So much regret,_ Terry thought sadly, _and all from such a great man._ It had taken him a while, but he finally accepted that Bruce Wayne's blood flowed through his veins, but a lot of the pain was still there, hidden inside him. He hadn't told anyone and didn't intend to any time soon.

Adjusting the rearview mirror, Terry checked his hair and sighed.

"Showtime."

He opened the door, unfolding his muscular, 6'2'' frame, and stepped out into the cool, breezy night air. The parking lot was empty of people except for himself and was dappled with pale yellow lights from streetlamps. He shut the car door and hit the button to lock it on his keys, shoving one hand into his suit pocket and checking his watch. 8:59. Not bad.

He strolled calmly down the sidewalk, fingering the velvet box in his pocket and tried to turn his mind off from the worried thoughts that plagued it. Was he doing the right thing? Should he let her into his life all the way even though it was dangerous? Did he really love her as much as he thought he did?

As he walked past an alleyway, the sound of masculine laughter caught his ears. He hesitated, turning his head to look. A group of Jokerz—about six of them, he noted—had gathered at the end of the alley. Yeah, those bums were still around, but they were more of a cult or clan nowadays. Once you were in, you were in and you had to do whatever the lead Joker said. One of those bastards had stumbled onto some Joker gas and started a black market production of it. Terry had spent months tracking them, trying to find its source.

"How's about me and you go make a little ha-ha later on tonight, sweetheart?" One of them sneered. Terry's eyes narrowed. He could see a pair of flawless, bare legs and a cloud of blonde hair from behind them but the rest of the woman was hidden by the pack of violent morons.

"No thanks. I don't date interspecies." She snapped back icily. Something about that voice sounded familiar…

The other Jokerz cackled wickedly and the speaker seemed emboldened by their jeering.

"Cute. Won't have much of a choice after I do this--!" He charged at her. Terry swore under his breath and ran down the alley. To his surprise, the woman roundhouse kicked the Joker's face into the brick wall next to them. He slid down it with a bloody nose and a mouthful of broken teeth. She set her legs solidly and raised her delicate fists in a tae-kwon-do stance, beckoning the remainder of the shocked gang.

"Teach her some manners," one of them growled, motioning for the other four to surround her. Terry, still unnoticed, slipped into a shadow behind a dumpster and watched in faint amusement as the woman laid the smackdown on all but one of them. Her form was solid and lethal, her fists whirling with skill and accuracy, but unfortunately, the last, largest African-American Joker knew tae-kwon-do as well. No matter how skilled she was, his sheer size would overpower her.

He was easily 6'4'' and muscles stretched veins like cords against his dark skin. The ridiculous clown paint did make him look less scary but the sadistic frown on his face did not. He'd driven her back into a corner so all she could do was defend. A vicious right kick caught her in the stomach, winding her and breaking her defense, and a backhand rocked her head back, beads of blood splashing from the corner of her mouth. She stumbled and fell, conscious enough to catch herself on her palms, moaning in pain. The first Joker she'd floored whipped out a scythe blade, brandishing it devilishly as he knelt and grabbed a handful of her curled locks.

"Game over, bitch."

"I don't think so."

Terry charged from the darkness, his head down, and slammed his shoulder into the Joker's chest, cracking several of the thug's ribs and making him drop the blade and crumple against the wall, shrieking in agony.

The big black Joker glared at him as he dragged the fallen woman up by the collar of her short, black dress, raising a fist threateningly.

"Beat it, hero. This ain't got nuthin' to do with you. The whore is mine to deal with."

"Back off and I'll let you off easy. Or you could join your pals over here on the ground. Put—her—_down_." Terry growled, clenching his fists. Smirking darkly, the black Joker tossed the woman aside, where she hit the wall with a yelp and slid down to her knees, barely conscious.

"Fine. I guess I'll take it out on you." The big man ran forward, his enormous fist raised. Terry sidestepped and faked a low kick, whirling and kicking the man in the side of the head at the temple. From there, he punched him in the solar plexus, winding him, and upper-cutted him backwards. The big thug stumbled but didn't fall, breathing heavily, and roared, kicking at his elusive opponent with agility unheard of for a man his size. Terry winced as he blocked the high kick aimed at his face, sliding a few feet from its sheer force. He caught the Joker's foot and jerked it, causing him to lose his balance, and drove his elbow down into his knee, breaking it. The Joker howled in pain, crashing to the ground with an agonized yell and letting out a stream of unintelligible curse words.

"Find a better hobby, pal." Terry quipped coldly, turning to attend to the woman. She leaned against the wall, still on her knees, breathing in shallow pants with a bruise rising on her graceful cheekbone. He knelt in front of her, turning her face towards his and gasped.

"Melanie!"

She blinked, her wintry eyes full of painful tears, and touched his face gently, whispering,

"Terry?"

The strength drained from her body and she fell into his arms, her head resting limply on his shoulder and spilling golden locks across his neck. He moved her back from where she'd collapsed against him slowly, cradling her lower back and gazing at her with conflicted eyes, torn between disbelief and a flood of buried emotions. His cell phone rang and it was Dana.

"Terry, where are you? I thought you said you wanted to meet me at the restaurant at eight?"

He hesitated. "I…I'm sorry, Dana. Something's come up. Go ahead and eat. I'll catch up with you. I promise."

He hung up and slowly rose with the fallen woman in his arms, walking back down the scummy alley and disappearing around the corner.

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Kyoko: (whimpers) Don't kill me. This was originally going to be a one-shot, but considering that as of now it has 46 pages, I'll just split it up into chapters. The fic's probably not going to be that long, though. Tell me what you think: REVIEW!


	2. Ghosts

Here's Your Letter

Chapter 2

9:28 PM

What was he doing?

Here, in his own home, laid a beautiful woman from his past, who made memories spill through him like ghosts. He should have just taken her to a hospital and have gotten back to his date with destiny. Why did he bring her home? Why was he watching her with some sort of tragic tenderness in his eyes? He'd pushed her away so many years ago and now there were things balancing on his tongue, things he'd been dying to say to her, even though there were a million and one reasons in his mind why he shouldn't say them. It was ridiculous.

Terry ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the doorjamb of his bedroom, eyes closed. This was crazy. Not on the night he was going to propose to Dana. What cruel hand of fate brought her to his doorstep?

'_I can't let this change anything,'_ he thought solidly, setting his jaw. _'I can't do that to Dana. It wouldn't be fair.'_

A soft sound caught his attention and he opened his eyes. Melanie stirred gently, regaining consciousness. He came towards her and removed the damp washcloth from her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing eyes that as pale and lovely as winter skies.

"Hey," Terry said softly, wondering why his voice sounded so throaty. A gentle, almost timid smile touched the edge of her mouth, then flickered as she tried to sit up. He slid an arm around the small of her back and lifted her up so she could lean against the headboard of the bed.

"What happened?"

"Jokerz. Six of 'em jumped you in an alley by Robertson Avenue."

She gingerly touched the bruise on her cheek and winced. "Looks like they did a pretty good job, too."

Terry sat at the foot of the bed and shrugged. "Hey: you broke one guy's arm and another guy's nose. Not a bad trade-off, if you ask me."

"Yeah." She rubbed her sore ribs for a moment, then pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face in a curtain of pale, golden locks. It was one of her old habits and it made Terry think of how he'd first met her outside the club after he had that fight with Dana. Terry shook his head to dispel the memory. She still looked fragile and softly angelic, even in the spaghetti-strapped black dress with a short, sky-blue jacket over it, and the years had most certainly been kind to her in filling out her once lithe form with voluptuous curves.

An uncomfortable silence filled between them like an invisible barrier because neither wanted to speak and bring up the past and remind them of what they lost.

Finally, Terry found the courage to ask what had been eating his tongue for over a minute.

"Mel…what happened to you?"

For the first time, she shot him a hard look and he felt a stab of guilt in his gut.

"You mean, now you actually _care_ what happened to me?"

He flinched. He had been cold to her a long time ago after discovering that she was with the Royal Flush gang as Ten and obviously, she still bore resentment against him for it.

Terry sighed. "That was a long time ago."

"You're damn right it was." His eyes widened. He'd never heard her curse before, but she wasn't done.

"You never believed that I could change, did you? Well, I have."

She slid her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, her face a mask of cold anger and strode for the door, ignoring the sharp protests her body made at the sudden movement. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to be just as cold and let her go. He didn't hear her leave the room yet. He looked up in surprise to see her pausing in the doorway, a hand lingering on the doorknob.

"By the way…thank you. For saving me. I at least owe you that much."

She closed the door behind her, leaving him to darkness.

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"Terry? _Terry?_ Ter, my head's on fire."

He jumped slightly, snapping out of his reverie. Dana grinned slightly, tapping his hand lightly.

"Huh?"

"Nice to know you're paying attention," she commented with a little sarcasm. He relaxed into an apologetic, uneasy smile.

"Sorry. Been thinking about something."

They were curled on his couch in front of the fireplace of his four-room condo, two glasses of red wine reflecting the flames as they sat on an elegant glass table. Besides the firelight, only cascading moonlight provided a light source for them, creating a dark and romantic atmosphere.

"Are you gonna tell me what it is or do I have to guess?" she questioned, lifting a perfectly groomed eyebrow up at him.

Terry shook his head. "Nah. It's not important."

She lifted up from resting her head between his neck and shoulder, confusion furrowing her brow.

"It has to be. You've been spaced out all night. What is it? You can tell me anything—you _know_ that."

He was staring into the blue part of the roaring fire, its color reminding him of the deep-set eyes he'd looked into that harbored so much raw pain and anger. Maybe he'd convinced himself that he didn't love her, but he couldn't keep the pangs of guilt from stabbing in his gut. What kind of life was she living? Would those Jokerz find her and attack her again?

Terry turned to his long-time girlfriend, remembering the beautiful diamond ring in his pocket, and wondered how she'd react if her told her the truth. He was amazed at how long they'd been together, though it was not as if they hadn't fought often, and at how patient Dana had been with him. She was an angel of mercy—his angel of mercy—and he loved her. But…

Before he could say anything, the phone beside them on a small decoration table rang. He sighed heavily, leaning away from Dana to pick it up.

"Hello?"

A shaky female voice answered. "Hello? Is this Terry McGinnis?"

He blinked, not recognizing the voice. "Yes, who's calling?"

"M-My name is Debra. I'm one of Melanie's friends."

At that, Terry stood and walked around behind the couch.

"I know this sounds random, but I really need your help. She's in trouble and I didn't know who else to call."

"How did you get this number?" he demanded.

"I…I found it. Please, this isn't a joke—she could get hurt or worse. Can you help me?"

Terry let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair and pressing his fist to his forehead. It was his decision: marry the woman he loved or save an old flame. The Bat side of him ordered that he help her, but the Terry side of him insisted that he let the past stay buried. But which one was right?

After a handful of seconds, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Alright. What do you need?"

"Can you meet me at the back of the Dark Fantasy on 5th Avenue?"

Shock made him hesitate. "I…yeah."

"Thank you. Please hurry." The line went dead.

"Who was that?" Dana asked with apprehension as he hung up the phone and searched the room for his jacket.

"A friend of mine is in trouble. I'm sorry, but I gotta go."

Her face fell in disappointment. "Oh."

After hurriedly pulling on his jacket, Terry kissed her briefly and headed towards the door.

"I might be real late. Don't wait up."

She sighed, watching him close the door behind him.

"But somehow, I always do."

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"_Remember me?"_

"_Melanie? Or should I say **Ten**?"_ _She flinched, the hopeful smile vanishing and being replaced with shame and guilt._

"_If you hate me, I understand—what I did to you before—I didn't have a choice. It was between you and my family."_

"_There's **always** a choice, Melanie."_

"_I need a place to stay 'til it's dark. That's all I'm asking for…"_

Terry's hands tightened on the wheel. He was trying not to let the memories rise in his mind from those twenty-odd years ago when Melanie came back. As Batman, he'd tried to help her but in the end, it hadn't worked out. He'd kept tabs on her after the rest of the Royal Flush Gang was arrested but never allowed himself to speak to her again. He knew better and so did the old man. Twenty-five years and he could still remember their conversations.

"_Lemme guess: cops after you?"_

"_Among others. Including Batman. But even he wouldn't think of looking for me here." She drew closer to him, her touch light and almost needing, those wintry eyes searching his face for a ray of hope or forgiveness._

"_No," he'd said softly. "I guess he wouldn't."_

_In an instant, the harshness was back in his voice and he began to pull away._

"_But there are laws against harboring criminals and I—"_

"_I'm not a criminal!" she insisted, her voice a mixture of hurt and exasperation. "Not any more." She added sadly, shaking her head faintly._

"_Then why is everybody after you?" he countered._

"_Because I was forced to rob a big poker game by the Jokerz. They're holding my family."_

_His first reaction had been shock, but he mentally kicked himself into thinking logically for a solution instead of letting his emotions get in the way._

"_I think we'd better call the police…"_

_He went for the phone but she stopped him with a hand._

"_Don't you get it? If I do that, the Jokerz will kill them!"_

_He turned back around and met her sad eyes unwaveringly, as if he could see straight down to her soul and all the secrets that lay hidden there. Things were battling in his mind and the anger mixed with regret made it all burn through his gaze…'_

A car horn blared behind him and Terry snapped out of his reverie, hitting the gas as he realized the light was green. His headlights splashed against the inky darkness, reflecting off the occasional neon signs and clubs on either side of the street. He was approaching his destination to the right.

The Dark Fantasy was strip club in the darkest, oldest part of Gotham City, though the city itself had been renovated several times in the last twenty years. The silhouette of a woman's body was outlines in black lights and Terry could hear pounding, sensual music pouring from it as his car glided past to the parking lot beside the two-story club.

After parking, Terry pushed through the glass double-doors and entered the club. Inside, the dark, sinful theme continued with no fluorescent lights anywhere, not even at the bar extending from the left corner of the club to near the entrance. The black lights made occasional colors stand out on the crowd, which was not surprisingly a large one.

"Can I help you, darlin'?" A purring, country voice asked from his right. Terry turned and found a buxom blonde with contact lenses that hid her irises and made her eyes white smiling up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. I'm looking for a Debra. She said she needed my help." He answered, reminding himself to maintain eye contact although her attributes were making it hard to do so. The leather, cowboy bondage gear didn't help either.

Still smiling, the blonde nodded and sashayed in front of him, crooking a finger at him to follow.

"Sure thing. This way, please."

The fact that the cowboy chaps had no seat to them further did not help.

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A/N: Yeah, I totally deserve a cookie. I made this chapter longer just for your benefit. So please, review and let me know what you think because I feel like I might be doing something stereotypical. Thanks. Next chapter coming soon. …I hope. (nervous smile)


	3. Cold

**Here's Your Letter**

Chapter 3

Debra Gardner shivered in her long, black leather coat as the wind blew, washing over her bare legs, and scanned the alleyway anxiously. She was short but very slender with layered silver hair and dark grey eyes. Her life had been a harsh one, which was almost a given in Gotham City, that included her mom leaving when she was six and her drunk father only being home enough to beat her. She dropped out of school in 10th grade and moved in with her boyfriend for a few months, trying to find work. After he dumped her, she'd spent years on the road with a rock group as their maid until she reached the age of nineteen. Then, she managed to rent an apartment and worked at a beauty parlor until it closed two years later.

The door behind her opened and a tall, handsome man appeared. She had seen him on television before: Mr. Bruce Wayne's second—or was it third? —heir to his fortune and current C.E.O of the Wayne Corporation. He was a striking, intimidating figure reminiscent of Bruce Wayne himself in his prime years with his strong jaw line, icy blue eyes, jet black hair smoothed back away from his face, broad shoulders, and crisp, muscular form. His attire was simple and dark: black leather jacket, grey slacks, black shirt. Those cold eyes were aimed right at her and made the color drain from her face.

"Debra?" he asked simply. She nodded nervously several times, her eyes darting behind and around him as he shut he back door.

"What's going on? Who are you and how do you know Melanie?" he questioned, crossing his arms and leaning against the banister of the short flight of steps they stood on.

"My name is Debra Gardner. I work here and I met Melanie when I was twenty-one. We lived in the same apartment building and I was going to get kicked out but she took me in and let me stay with her."

His eyes narrowed, boring into her skull like twin drills. "What does this have to do with me?"

Wringing her hands in front of her, she started to walk back and forth on the landing.

"We've been living together for the past couple years and sometimes she would mention you, but only to me. She used to say that you cared about her, a lot, but her criminal past broke you apart."

The first signs of an emotion flickered across his face and it was guilt. Debra noticed, but didn't say anything about it.

"Recently, she got mixed up with some really bad people and she can't get out. I think she borrowed money from one of them and they're asking for more than she has. It didn't get bad until they started roughing her up and…"

Terry's hands clenched around the rusted metal of the banister and he closed his eyes, pain flooding through his system as he remembered her sad eyes.

"_I don't suppose an apology would put everything back to the way it was before."_

_"Melanie, things've changed…"_

"Who are they?" he demanded suddenly, making the young woman jump.

"I…I don't know. I haven't met or seen them before."

He pushed off from the banister and she backed away, scared.

"Where's Melanie?"

"I…you can't see her. I wasn't supposed to call you—she can't know we met!"

"Debra, where is she?" he pressed, forcing her up against the wall. She trembled, shaking her head.

"She'll get mad at me! I wasn't supposed to—"

Gently, he took her arms and made her look at him, relaxing his face into a solemn expression. "Debra, please. I can't help her if I don't know where she is. Please."

His eyes were pleading with her, as if they harbored every guilty thought in the world. With a sigh, she bowed her head and mumbled,

"She's going on stage in a few minutes."

Terry yanked the door open and went back inside, striding through the winding hallways to look for the dressing rooms. An announcer's voice came on over the intercom as he reached the main area of the club, peering through reams of smoke at the center stage.

"Introducing all the seasoned veterans' favorite, the voluptuous, the seductive femme fatale…Melanie!"

His heart filled his throat, an abnormal pulse throbbing in his ears with a mixture of horror and shock as the music began, a loud next-Gen version of Janet Jackson's "Black Cat", and the red curtains split apart.

Strobe lights flashed blue spots onto the black leather her sumptuous form had been poured into. She was leaning her bare back against a giant prop carton of milk, both hands pushing the golden curls away from her face. She eased down into a crouch and crawled forward slowly, making each movement as graceful and alluring as a wild, big cat.

The flashes of light revealed her costume in segments: the black, leather jacket that swallowed her arms but stopped just under her chest, the matching bra that exposed the milky perfection of her cleavage line, the form-fitting, leather low-rise pants slithering down to four-inch spike heels, and completed with a pair of life-like, furry black ears and a tail. Terry could not speak or move.

She began her routine once she had crawled all the way to the pole running from the stage to the ceiling amidst the hoops and hollers of the club full of men who needed to get lives, gyrating her slender hips to the music in a sinfully graceful motion, mouthing the words to the song with full lips shiny with blood-red lipstick.

Transfixed, Terry desperately searched for a logical thought inside his head, which had apparently crashed into a pile of drooling, carnal thoughts. It took all of the will power in his body to step away from the doorway he'd been standing in and move so that he could no longer see her.

On stage, Melanie was frozen. Was it just her imagination or had she just seen Terry standing near the door leading to the bathroom and dressing rooms? But in an instant, the mutinous men began to get agitated so she started dancing again, though her mind was now racing. He couldn't be here. It would mess up everything. Squeezing her eyes shut, she let the music wash over her and kept dancing.

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"I was wrong. You have changed."

Melanie froze on the first step of the back door to the _Dark Fantasy_ as Terry's voice spoke from behind her. For a second, she felt a flood of emotions burst in her chest but she hardened herself and kept walking.

"I already told you that. Now get out of here; only employees are allowed back here." She snapped, pulling the crimson jacket around her body.

"How long have you been working here, Melanie?" He was following her now.

"That's none of your damn business," she snarled, increasing her speed in order to reach the end of the alley. "I already said 'thank you', now leave me the hell alone."

Suddenly, he was in front of her with a vise-like grip on her arm. "Mel, you can't keep doing this. It's not right. You deserve better."

Melanie jerked her arm away. "Just who do you think you are? What makes you think you have the right to tell me what to do? My life doesn't have anything to do with you any more and it hasn't for a long time now so fuck off!"

The response didn't faze him but he let her keep walking. "I know that you're involved with a loan shark, Melanie."

She froze at the corner, her crystalline eyes blurring momentarily with tears. She shook her head, ignoring the pain that reverberated through her chest, and finally turned to face him. It wasn't an improvement since now she could see the determined look on his handsome face and the sincerity in his eyes. But it didn't matter.

"So that's it, is it? You save me once and now you think you can fix my whole life just like that? Well guess what: I don't care about your guilt trip or your holy mission. I've taken care of myself without you and your pity so thanks, but no thanks. You can take your money and shove it. I can handle it."

She started to turn away but his words stopped her again.

"You can't do this. Not by yourself."

Those words…the ones he'd told her that fateful night they spent together when she was trying to save her family. They burned like a hot iron pressed against soft flesh, leaving a scar. The wind blew her heavy, curled locks against her face, causing the tear that had fallen to chill and feel like ice. Ice. Like his eyes.

"I have to. I don't have a choice." She whispered back, trying to regain her voice.

"There's _always_ a choice, Melanie." He said softly, emotions finally creating a pool of sadness in his eyes. They stood there for a long moment in the suddenly cold wind until Melanie gathered her coat around her and walked away.

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Once inside her car, Melanie exhaled, hearing the sob in it and hating the sound, harshly wiping the tears from her face in rapid movements. The harder she tried to block out the memories, the more vivid they became. She remembered the last time she saw Batman at the back of the restaurant she'd worked in.

_"Can I get that to-go?" She'd looked up with a start as a low, familiar voice spoke from above her. Batman appeared without warning and dropped down in front of her. Anger surged within her as she realized what he wanted._

"_Look, I haven't talked to my parents in months and I had nothing to do with that Powers business."_

"_I know. But if you should hear anything—"_

"_I **won't**." She cut him off bitterly, trying to quell the pain that gathered in her stomach like poison. "As far as they're concerned, I don't exist."_

_For a moment, he stared at her, then softly said, "I'm sorry" before turning to leave. Before she could help herself, she blurted out,_

"_Wait!"_

_Batman paused. "You remember that note I gave you? The one for Terry McGinnis? Did he—"_

"_Yeah. He got it."_

_A swell of emotions swam through her but bitterness was the prevailing one._

"_I guess I don't exist to him either." She dumped the coffee she'd been holding on the ground and went back inside._

Melanie closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel and pressing as if she could shove the recollection out of her skull. Terry had forgotten her. End of story. She couldn't let him come back into her life after he'd left her out of his. He wasn't her Prince Charming and she damn sure wasn't his Snow White. And besides, she had sworn to never tell him—

Her black-and-silver cell phone rang from inside her small purse and she fumbled around for it.

"Hello?"

"We need to talk. NOW."

There was a cold, ruthless voice on the line that made a thrill of fear spill down her spine and settle in the pit of her stomach.

"I'll—I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Make it sooner." The line went dead and she wished she were as well.

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A/N: Sorry. I'm just to freaking lazy to put more up right now. And I'm pissed because I KNOW you guys are reading, but you won't review. Reviewing is VERY important to me right now because I really wanna know how I'm doing on this fic because I think I've gotten rusty. So PLEASE, review whether you like the story or not. I need your help. I'll try and get Chapter 4 up before next week, but no promises.


	4. Leverage

Here's Your Letter

Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, this fic is about to get pretty serious. All Dana-lovers flee right now. There are a lot of flashbacks from "Dead Man's Hand", "Once Burned", and "King's Ransom" in this chapter and the next so try and jog your memories for them so you won't get confused. Which reminds me…I don't own this franchise (unfortunately) or Blink 182's "Here's Your Letter". I forgot to disclaim it. Heh. Silly Kyo. Sorry for the long absence, but I hope to make up for it in this chapter. There's a lot of heavy stuff going on soon so the rating may change, but probably not. Rated for language and violence.

Kyoko

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By now, it was well into the night and Terry had dragged himself home, not having to go on patrol because Bruce gave him the night off. It was supposed to be "The Special Night". It had been special, alright.

Numbly, he stumbled into the condo, tossing the keys in the answering machine's general direction and collapsing on the couch with a miserable groan.

How had he gotten mixed up in this again? How had this "magical" night become such a regretful disaster?

He dragged a pillow over his face and sighed into it with frustration, his eyes closing and giving into accursed memories.

**Cut the skin to the bone**

**Fall asleep all alone**

**Hear your voice in the dark.**

**Lose myself in your eyes**

**Choke my voice**

**Say goodnight **

**As the world falls apart…**

"_There's an old saying, 'Once burned, twice shy'. Is that what you're feeling now?"_

"_No. But you did burn me. Bad."_

"_I don't suppose an apology would put everything back to the way it was before."_

"_Melanie…things've changed…"_

"_How? Are you saying you aren't attracted to me any more?"_

_The moonlight had cascaded down on her golden hair, the shadows accenting the gentle curves of her face and mouth and accentuating her slender, beautiful body._

"_**No**, I'm not sayin' that." He paused to drink in her appearance._

"_Not at all."_

A long sigh escaped him. He could almost see it like it was yesterday: the feel of her soft, warm body in his arms, the tender touch of her lips against his, that pleading look in her jewel-like eyes. Maybe it had been the wrong decision but now…he didn't know.

**I can't let this kill me**

**Let go**

**I need some more time to fix this…**

Remembering what time it was, Terry rolled over onto his side and lazily groped around for the phone to call Dana and let her know he was home. The proposal would have to wait. For now.

His hand brushed a folded piece of paper and he suddenly pushed up on his arms, bringing it in front of his face. It was a note with his name on it in Dana's handwriting. Feeling his stomach sink to his shoes, he slowly unfolded it and read the contents.

_Terry,_

_I love you. You're the sweetest, most noble and thoughtful man I've ever been with. We've been together for so long now that it feels like I've known you my whole life. And it's because of that that I have to say I'm leaving. It's nothing you did. It's what you didn't do. I understand your burden as Batman and I wish I could be more supportive of you, but I can't wait any longer. We've been together for so many years and yet our relationship has barely gone anywhere. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me, but I've met someone else. I'm moving to Japan with him tonight. By the time you get this, I'll be in the air. I will never forget you or what we had. Please take care of yourself. I hope you find what you're looking for someday._

_Dana_

He'd lost her for the last time.

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She hated this place.

It wasn't because of its appearance because the restaurant was gorgeous and the food was delectable. The atmosphere was pleasant and well lighted; the building was two-stories and could comfortably fit forty-seven tables on the first floor and a further twenty upstairs. _He_ was the reason she hated this place.

That stupid grey door was in front of her now, the one with the black letters reading "Manager", and she could feel the nervous clutch of fear in her abdomen. The dreadful notion that she could never be free of them made her posture slump and her throat tighten. But she squared her shoulders and adopted a cold, defiant expression as she grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

As usual, the room was dark and narrow with white walls, shrouded in cigarette smoke enough that she coughed. It was empty except for a bland charcoal couch at the back and two round tables where his usual gang of idiots had gathered, whistling at her as she walked past them. The loathsome scum was sandwiched between an Asian beauty and a Swedish model, a fat cigar held loosely between his thumb and forefinger. Melanie clenched her hands and spoke.

"I'm here. What d'you want?"

He took a drag on the cigar slowly, deliberately, and glared up at her with his dead, doll-like eyes.

"Evening, Melanie. How's it going?"

Her eyes narrowed icily. She wasn't in the mood for playing games.

"You know damn well 'how it's going'? What did you call me for—I already paid you this month."

He paid her no attention for a moment, handing his cigar to the blonde on his left. She smiled seductively and took a pull, blowing out the smoke in a ring and watching Melanie with taunting eyes. Finally, he spoke to her.

"A couple of my boys said they paid you a visit earlier tonight."

Internally, Melanie winced. "Yeah. So?"

"All six of them are in the hospital. Any idea why?" Those black, predatory eyes bored into hers like a lion watching a gazelle that had seen the hunger in its eyes.

"They crossed the line. Someone had to put them straight, Zack." She lied with a perfectly straight face.

A low, dry chuckle escaped him as he exhaled another stream of smoke.

"You're good for a woman, Mel, but not that good. Who helped you?"

"No one." Zack glanced to his right at one of his grinning associates. Melanie suddenly found herself on her butt with a sharp, crackling pain shooting across her left cheekbone.

"Don't make this hard on yourself, Mel. Just tell me who helped you and you can go home." Zack sighed boredly. She only shook her head and pushed to her feet, wintry eyes cold and defiant.

"No one helped me." She repeated. A fist buried itself in her stomach, crushing the air from her lungs and dropping her to her knees, gasping for breath.

"Lying bitch," the offender snarled. Melanie clutched her abdomen until the pain lessened and made herself stand again. Zack's dead eyes remained the same but the smirk was gone from his face.

"Last time I'm gonna ask you nicely. Who was it?"

She spat at his feet contemptuously. "Your mom."

The second man lashed out at her again but she dodged and thrust the palm of her hand upward into his nose, effectively breaking it and causing him to crumple to the floor in pain. The remaining men bristled and surrounded her, cracking their knuckles and grinning cruelly.

Zack stood slowly and pushed past the moaning thug on the floor, locking his eyes with Melanie's.

"Well…looks like somebody grew some balls overnight," he mused, handing his cigar to the Asian girl behind him. The stench of the smoke swarmed Melanie's senses but she stood firm and glared at him fearlessly. He cradled her injured cheek, examining the bruise beginning to rise on her pale skin and clucked his tongue.

"You should get some ice on that, babe. Wouldn't want to scare the fish away on your next shift." He leaned over her face as if to kiss her and whispered,

"But I have an idea of who could replace you…and she's a lot more…lively."

Her eyes widened in horror, but only for a second, then fury overtook her face.

"Leave Emily out of this, you bastard—"

"Then tell me who the hell put half my crew in the hospital or I'll make sure that every Joker at Gotham University gets a taste of little miss Walker."

Rage welled up in her chest and burst as she swiped at him wildly, trying to scratch his eyes out with her nails, only to have her arms grabbed by one of the bravest of the group of Jokerz. The others warily stepped back to avoid joining their bleeding friend on the floor. She struggled in the large man's grip, all the desperate anger she had for the manipulative Joker leader stark on pale face. Zack never batted an eyelash.

"What's more important, Mel? The welfare of some stranger or your own daughter?"

It wasn't his cruelly conversational voice that made her stop struggling; it was the vivid picture of Emily Walker's face in her mind. The only person left in the world that hadn't hurt her. Emily, whose eyes warmed her broken heart because they reminded her of…

Melanie sighed and there was a sob in it, her head bowing in shame, and closed her eyes, whispering,

"McGinnis. His name is Terry McGinnis."

Zack frowned. "The billionaire?" A sneer curled on her lips.

"You're lying…"

Her head jerked up and the anger returned.

"No, I'm not. He and I used to date when we were teenagers."

Zack's eyes widened, then seemed to freeze over and the lifeless look in them made her shudder.

"So he's…" A dry chuckle escaped him. "That makes it all the more meaningful. Irony is an interesting concept, isn't it?"

His words dawned on her and numbed her too the bone. What had she done?

"No, don't do this, please! I'll do anything!" she pleaded, all the toughness crashing down into helplessness. Zack took the cigar back from the Asian girl, ignoring Melanie's cries, and blew a long breath of smoke in her face. She coughed harshly, then swayed as she suddenly became light-headed. A warm numb fizzled down her body and her vision swam, colors bleeding together until a thick grey sucked her down into unconsciousness.

Zack jerked his head towards the motionless woman held between the big Joker's hands.

"Get her outta here. We've got work to do."

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"I thought I gave you the night off," the ancient legend known as Bruce Wayne questioned mildly as he watched his son exit the changing room with the Batsuit on. Terry's face was too expressionless in the pale cave light: the old man knew something was wrong.

"You did. But I thought it'd be best to do one quick sweep."

"No such thing," Bruce remarked, easing down into his favorite chair with the help of his cane.

"I take it your date didn't go as planned?"

Terry pulled the cowl over his face, striding for the batmobile.

"Something like that. And if you say 'I told you so', I am going to switch your pills with Tic-Tacs."

The top of the vehicle slid open.

"I'm sorry."

Terry froze. It was the first time he had ever heard Bruce Wayne apologize in his life. He almost turned to look at the old man, just to see if his face matched the soft sincerity his voice had held. A brief sigh escaped his lips.

"Me too."

The shuttle door shut once he jumped inside and the sleek, black hover car blasted out of the cave's exit.

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Next chapter coming soon! Max, drugs, lies, memories, and epiphanies. And don't forget to review or my fics from the Graveyard of Discontinuation will crawl out of their tombs and eat your brains. :D Ha.


	5. Regrets

Here's Your Letter

Chapter 5

A/N: Again, with the deepness. This chapter (though a little late, and I'm sorry) starts Melanie's plunge into the dark and tormented. All those afraid of depression and heavy stuff run screaming. I also couldn't help but slip a bit of Terry/Max in here so please forgive me. Their pairing is just so darn natural to me! I can't keep my hands off it…except for my fic, _On the Catwalk_. As for that…well, let's just say I'm planning on revamping it in the future. Does that make anyone feel any better? No? Get over it. :P

I hope you enjoy this chapter and all its scary deepness. Bai.

-Kyoko

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"Oh Ter…I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, but not as sorry as I am right now."

Max squeezed the pillow in her lap against her chest, shaking her head faintly as if it could erase what her best friend had just told her. She could almost see his face, remembering how it used to make her heart sting whenever he was in pain, physically or emotionally.

"Maybe I can talk to her for you. She has to know you were going to propose. It could change everything she's been feeling."

Terry sighed, his face crumpling into tired lines. "I don't know, Max. She's right. I should've done it earlier. Way earlier."

"But you weren't sure if you were ready to take that risk with her, Terry. That much you had a reason for. Even though you loved her, safety came first. It was the same way when we—" She paused, stopping herself from digging up the past. **That** was ancient history.

"The point is," she continued, brushing past the momentary awkward silence. "You wanted her to be safe before you let her in all the way and I think she knew that."

"But I never meant to push her away," he replied quietly. Max hugged the pillow tighter, wishing she could be where he was and comfort him.

"I know you didn't. It just seemed that way to her. Did you tell the old man?"

"More or less. He knows something went wrong, but that's it."

The ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "Did he say 'I told you so'?"

"No, because I threatened him. He actually apologized."

Max gawked at her headset. "He _what_?"

Terry almost smiled. "He said, 'I'm sorry'. I wish I'd recorded it."

Her mood changed instantly. "That-that crotchety old fart! He never apologized to me that time he got me arrested!" (A/N: Episode, _"Where's Terry?"_)

He couldn't resist a chuckle. "I still can't believe he did that to you."

"You're damn right he did! God, I have never met anyone as stubborn as him in my entire life." She growled, reminiscing about the trouble she got in with her parents.

"Hey, but he eventually caved in, remember?"

Max sighed happily, settling back against the headboard of her bed.

"Yeah. How could I forget? It was the best night of my life."

Her best friend snorted. "Only because it was almost your last. He was even madder at you for stealing the belt off the Bat-suit than when I stole the actual suit."

"Got his attention, though, didn't I?"

Terry shook his head, finally smiling. "You got everyone's attention. We had a good run, didn't we?"

"It was more than a good run." Her voice was soft and solemn. Terry paused, the smile fading.

"Do you still miss it?"

Max was silent. It was a loaded question, whether he realized it or not. For a period of time, the two of them had been lovers, right after Bruce allowed her to be Batgirl. She left some years later after they called it quits and she fell in love with the man she married, Darryl Sanders. She and Terry stayed friends, but she missed her old nightlife, not to mention the city itself. A small corner of her heart still loved Terry, but it was secondary. She had a husband and sons now. They hadn't been teenagers for two-and-a-half decades.

"You know I do." She answered finally, running a hand through her short black hair, absently remembering when it had been hot pink.

"Maybe you should visit sometime. We all miss you over here, 'specially Matt. You were the only one who could slag him in Doom Racer 4."

Max sat up as her husband entered their bedroom, smiling cheerfully at her.

"The hubby's home. I need to get some stuff done. I'll call you later, Ter."

"Bye, Max."

"Bye."

Terry switched his view from the batmobile's dashboard to the expanse of the city in front of him. Gotham was quiet tonight, almost too quiet, but he decided to head home. Sleep wouldn't come easily, but he needed to rest and get himself together.

The batmobile glided over the building he lived in and he pulled the drop-hatch, descending towards the balcony. He landed with practiced grace and heaved a sigh, pulling off the mask and walking inside. Terry froze.

His bedroom had been ravaged.

Dressers lay scattered across the floor alongside clothes, the mirror to the vanity his mother gave him was cracked, papers and jewelry was strewn every which way, and red spray paint decorated the walls, spelling "HA HA". A cold spot filled Terry's stomach as he remembered the last time he saw those letters, when the Joker had nearly killed Wayne, or earlier when Mr. Fixx and Derek Powers had impersonated the Jokerz when they'd killed his father.

He ran to the rest of the condo to survey the damage. The furniture was sprayed as well and dishes lay smashed on the floor of the kitchen. Next to the phone was a scythe blade pinning something to the wall. Terry wrenched it free and found himself staring at a playing card. It was a Joker and words were scribbled on the back in black: "You're next".

Disgusted, he threw the card away and let out an angry sigh, swearing under his breath. He'd underestimated them. Whoever their leader was had good sources, maybe too good.

A soft sound similar to a moan caught his ears. Terry opened his eyes and pushed back from leaning against the kitchen counter to see a pair of legs lying over the edge of the couch. He flicked on the overhead light to the den and found Melanie on her back, unconscious.

His eyes widened, then narrowed. If he hadn't already been suspicious, he was now.

Terry leaned over her and checked the big pulse in the side of her neck with two fingers. It was abnormally fast. He opened one of her eyes and found it rolling around erratically as if she was having a nightmare, but it wasn't so benign. Judging by the paleness of her skin, the sweat beading on her forehead, and the weak, reedy breathing, Terry realized she was on some sort of narcotics. She stirred restlessly on the couch, her hands groping for something to hold onto, muttering brokenly,

"Emily…Emily, be careful…I won't let anyone hurt you…"

Terry knelt and stroked the side of her face gently, noticing the stiff bruise still on her cheekbone, calling,

"Melanie, can you hear me?"

Her eyes were still closed and she still writhed against the leather couch, making small, pained noises.

"No…who is it? No…not again, please!"

He took her shoulders and shook her once, twice, his voice more urgent.

"Melanie? Melanie, can you hear me? It's Terry."

She began to struggle against him, clawing at his hands, her face twisted in terror and shrieked.

"No! Let go of me! No more! No more!"

"Melanie!"

"NO!" She bolted upright, her eyes wide in panic. Panting, she blinked rapidly and recognized the man holding her arms.

"Terry?"

Before he could reply, she clapped a hand to her mouth and struggled to her feet, searching for the bathroom. Terry followed her and found her collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet, retching into it. Carefully, he knelt beside her and held her hair back away from her face. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, sobs racking her huddled form. While she cried, he stood and grabbed a washcloth, running cold water over it and seating himself in front of the tub. He drew her into his lap sideways and pressed the cool cloth to her forehead, holding her as she sobbed brokenly into his chest. He didn't have to ask what was wrong because it didn't matter.

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"_Big fight?"_

_He turned when he heard a soft, husky voice from his left. A girl was standing by the window, leaning her svelte form against it. Her hair was a shoulder length golden-blonde, curled under in elegant ringlets, and her eyes were as startlingly pale as his. She wore a long-sleeved black blouse that covered long, slender fingers over a dark-pink skirt short enough to flaunt her flawless, long legs and matching pink-and-black boots._

"_I was watching."_

_There was something about her that he couldn't place but he liked it. Plus, he was pissed at Dana and in no mood to deny companionship._

_They were walking along a dark, moody street near the clock tower that overlooked a magnificently lighted portion of the city. It was good being with a girl who knew how to be quiet and just listen to him for once._

"_I got this…this after school job that…takes up a lot of my time. Too much."_

_Her tone was reasonable, understanding, and yet still quiet. "Maybe you should ask your boss for more time off."_

_He snorted and it ended in a dry, bitter chuckle. "Not this guy. Him, you don't ask for time off."_

_She wrapped her arms around a nearby lamppost, curling around it as if it were the only thing keeping her on the ground, as if she'd float away without it. The movement was almost cat-like, a sort of boneless grace few people possessed._

"_So what kind of after school job is this anyway?"_

"_Well, I do errands. Sort of. It's kinda hard to describe. What about you? What were you doing—how come you didn't go in?"_

"_Didn't know anyone?"_

"_New in town?"_

"_Perpetually."__The first note of emotion hinted in her voice, though her lovely face was blank. Her presence seemed to emit a sad glow as she continued._

"_My parents move around a lot because of work." She slid from around the lamp to look over the edge of the street at the city below._

" '_Least you get to see the world." He offered._

"_Yeah." She laughed bitterly with the same lonely voice. "See the world and lose all your friends. Y'know what it's like being uprooted every few weeks? Never quite knowing what's gonna be happening next?"_

_He joined her, leaning on his folded arms to look over the edge._

"_I'm beginning to get an idea of what that's like."_

_She moved closer to him, finally smiling and it elevated her face to beautiful._

"_Two of a kind. That's what we are. I'm Melanie. Melanie Walker."_

_He smiled back. "Terry McGinnis."_

_She watched him with smoldering eyes for a second, then moved forward, pressing her soft mouth against his passionately…_

A flash of red went across Terry's eyes, chasing away the glazed look in them as he realized he'd just ran a red light. He shook his head and paid attention to the road, though second later his mind began to wander once more as he glanced at the passenger's seat. Melanie was asleep, leaning her tired forehead against the window and breathing a cloud of moisture on it every few minutes. She'd cried herself to sleep in his arms, too hurt to maintain her façade of cold indifference. He found her address in the small purse lying next to the couch and decided to take her home. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop wondering how she had ended up like this. Would she be the same way if they had stayed together? Was he the reason her life was so miserable?

'**No'**, answered the other part of him. **'She made her own decisions. It was better that you stayed out of her life. She was a criminal.'**

'_Yeah, right,'_ answered the other part of him, the real him underneath the Bat. _'That's an excuse and you know it. Remember what the old man said about Selina Kyle? They're the same. Melanie isn't a bad person: she just makes bad decisions. Everyone does.'_

'**It's less complicated this way,'** the cold voice said firmly. **'And besides, you're in love with Dana, remember?'**

'_But weren't you in love with Melanie?'_ The other voice countered smugly. The Bat was silent.

'**It doesn't matter.'**

'_Yes, it does. You just won't like the outcome.'_ Terry stopped arguing with himself inside his head and parked the car in a rather dingy-looking lot beside an equally dingy-looking apartment building. He cut off the engine and stepped out of the car, going around to get Melanie out of the passenger's side. She stirred when he picked her up, wrapped in his jacket to stay warm, but didn't wake.

Terry carried her up the few steps and opened the door. There was a long, dark hallway with a staircase at the end on their right. He ascended them and searched for the number 248 on the scratched wooden doors. It was the last room on the left. Balancing her still form with one arm, he dug her key card out of his pants pocket and opened the door.

The apartment was small and dark: a narrow closet was in front of the entrance, the kitchen to the left, a small den a few feet from it, and the bedroom was the farthest from the door. He surveyed it briefly before heading for the bedroom. As he entered, a large black cat stretched lazily on the foot of the bed and blinked curiously up at him with pale yellow eyes. He gently laid the exhausted Melanie on the mattress and tucked his jacket securely around her body, pausing to check her pulse and temperature. They were both relatively normal.

The cat mewled and rubbed itself against the back of his hand. Terry smiled faintly and indulged the lonely animal, stroking it a couple times, and absently remembered Ace. He had been a good dog 'til the end.

"Jack, huh?" he murmured, noticing the cat's name in white on its red collar. That made sense. Jack was killed twenty years ago by some car-jackers. Melanie had probably taken it hard. Real hard. Maybe that was what had thrown her life in the toilet.

As he turned to leave, Terry noticed a framed photograph on the table next to the bed serving as a nightstand. There was a little girl smiling up at him, no more than six or seven, with curly blonde hair and pale eyes. He found himself smiling fondly at it. _Melanie sure was a cute kid,_ he thought. He left the room, the cat choosing to lie by its master's feet, and shut the door behind him.

Now alone, Terry could get to work. True, she told him not to help her, but he didn't plan to directly. And besides, those shit-heads had messed up his condo. They were going **down**.

He checked her phone history to check for clues. The caller ID held frequent calls to Gotham University, _The Dark Fantasy_, and restaurant not too far from the aforementioned strip club. Sources he could get to in a reasonable amount of time. Hopefully, he'd be able to find the link between Melanie and the Jokerz, though he was sure it wasn't going to be a remotely humane one. He could check the club first.

A button on his car keys summoned the batmobile. Terry glanced back at the hallway towards the bedroom and silently hoped she'd be safe while he was gone. He left.

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A/N: That's it. And no, Terry's not crazy. The whole arguing thing was to emphasize how similar to Bruce he was in regard to his feelings versus his duties. Next chapter: flashbacks to Melanie's life after she and Terry broke up. It gets really heavy. Don't forget to review. Thanks for reading.

Kyoko


	6. Descend to Darkness Part 1

**Here's Your Letter**

Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter starts in on various flashbacks to Melanie's past: some are actual moments from the series and others are pure fanfiction. Sorry it took so long. But I'm on summer vacation (for two weeks and then I have to go to a summer program) so I can hopefully get more done now. Hope you like this chapter.

Kyoko

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_She came to the warehouse where the note said her family was being held. A figure moved through the shadows towards her and she tossed the loaded bag of jewelry and creds at his feet._

"_Here's the ransom. Now let my family go." She demanded. The figure stepped into the light and Melanie gasped._

"_Well done, darling." Her father commented smugly, smiling at the look of shock on his daughter's face. Queen joined him from the shadows._

"_Dad? Where are the Jokerz?"_

"_There never were any Jokerz. This was just a family thing."_

_She couldn't believe her ears. "Family? What are you talking about?"_

_Her mother spoke this time. "After the last time, we weren't sure we could trust you. But you just proved yourself. Congratulations."_

_The pit of her stomach sank to her feet, a horrified look twisting her face as everything crashed into place around her ears. They set her up. Her own family had set her up…_

_King noticed her countenance. "What's wrong, darling?"_

"_What's **wrong**? How could you do this to me?" she cried._

_They glanced at each other. "Melanie, listen." Her father started. "Your mother and I love you very much…"_

_Queen took over. "—but we needed to be sure you loved us."_

"_You **don't** love me!" Melanie exploded. They both flinched. "If you did, you wouldn't have done this to me. And you never would have made me choose between the family and Terry. You would have accepted him."_

_She clutched the wall near her, as if she could press herself into it and disappear so the pain of her family's betrayal would hurt no more._

"_You were too young."_

_She whirled on her father. "Age had nothing to do with it! You were afraid I'd leave the gang—that's what it was. All I've ever been to you is an accomplis. Never a daughter. I just…wish it hadn't taken me so long to realize it…"_

Memories were swarming through Melanie's fractured mind, more vivid than ever, and all the pain and sorrow she'd felt since she left the Royal Flush Gang resurfaced. Her own family, all except Jack, had rejected her. She still remembered that fateful night so many years ago…

_She was bringing a bag of groceries to their car. The parking lot was dark and damp, cars dotting the spaces at the back. A few guys disappeared behind a van near where Jack had parked the car. He'd been waiting for her._

_A touch of fear gripped her as she heard yelling and threats as she walked closer and closer. Her footsteps echoed sharply across the concrete but a lone sound cut through them like a knife. Melanie raced to the spot their car was parked and gasped as she spied a body lying face-up on the ground. She dropped the bag of groceries. Three men piled into the car, cackling, drove off, leaving her to collapse near her fallen brother. Tears poured helplessly down her face as she cradled Jack's head in her lap, her hands bloody from touching the gunshot wound in his chest. His breathing was shallow and strained; a lung had been punctured._

"_Jack—no, please! Don't leave me! I love you, please, please, Jack, no!" Melanie shrieked, sobbing. Her dying brother touched the side of her face, stroking it lovingly, and managed a weak smile._

"_Cheer up…old gal. You can make it. You're strong. Always were…always will be."_

_He drew his last breath, brown eyes closing as darkness began to descend._

"_I love you…"_

_Melanie clutched him to her and wept as the life left his body, still begging for him to hold on. The ambulance arrived ten minutes later, but by then it was too late. At the age of eighteen, Melanie had lost everything: her life, her parents, her brother, and the man she's fallen in love with._

_Four days after Jack's funeral, Melanie was on an elevator, going up to the top floor of the city's central clock tower. No one knew she intended to kill herself. _

_A guy came into the elevator as it stopped on the fifteenth floor. He was around 5'11'' with shoulder length brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck, and remarkably dark brown eyes. His face was slender with high cheekbones covered in a professional five o'clock shadow and under the trenchcoat were baggy cargo pants and a lean, muscular body. His entire appearance seemed to scream rock-star, down to the smell of cigarette smoke wafting from his body._

_He stood on the other side of the elevator and leaned against the wall, digging a lighter and a box of Newports out of his coat pocket. Melanie was staring at the floor with hollow eyes when he held the pack out to her. _

"_Smoke?" His voice was warm and rolling, like someone who had confidence in everything he did and knew that women found him attractive. She jumped, then shook her head, answering in a quiet voice,_

"_No, thank you. I don't smoke."_

_He nodded gruffly, cupping his hands to light his own, and blew a mouthful of smoke into the air._

"_Good. It's a filthy habit." He tossed her a lop-sided grin and received no reaction. He shrugged to himself. _

"_What're you here for? Meeting your boyfriend for lunch?"_

"_No." She answered quietly. He arched a dark eyebrow._

"_Sight-seeing?"_

"_No."_

"_Going to work?"_

"_No."_

"_Going to a city council meeting?"_

"_No."_

_He paused. "Selling drugs?"_

_She blinked several times, as if waking from a trance, and looked up at him questioningly. The guy chuckled, the cigarette bobbing at the corner of his mouth._

"_That was a joke. You were supposed to laugh."_

_When she didn't reply, he peered at her, noticing the blank look on her face._

"_You okay, babe?"_

_She wrapped her arms around her waist. "It doesn't matter."_

"_Shouldn't it? It's gotta be something pretty serious. Do you need help?"_

_Melanie shook her head. "No one can help me."_

"_They can't if you don't let them try." She looked at him then and saw that his eyes were closed, his head tilted up towards the ceiling._

"_Like me, for instance. My girl broke up with me last night so I'm headin' for the top of the building to throw the ring I bought her off. Maybe…" He closed the distance between them, turning her face towards his with a surprisingly gentle hand._

"_There's something I can help you with."_

_The elevator door opened on the top floor. Melanie knew it was, but she couldn't move, trapped by the interesting stranger's eyes._

"_It's your floor." He murmured, his smoky breath sliding across her lips._

_The door closed._

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_It wasn't the same. She'd been seeing Zack for almost a month and it wasn't the same as when she had been with Terry. Zack was funny and exotic and slightly vulgar, but she didn't love him. She had given herself to him because he was the only one who cared when she had reached the end of her rope. But all that changed when she took a trip to the drug store for a product she had been too scared to use. She was gaining weight and had already missed her cycle twice. She hoped to God it wasn't true, but her hope was circling the drain along with the emptied contents of her stomach in the toilet._

_Melanie stared at her reflection in the mirror, cold down to the soles of her feet, and whispered hoarsely,_

"_Please God, **no**."_

_She read the results again and felt the strength leave her body, crumpling to her knees with the test still in her hand._

_She was pregnant. Pregnant with her ex-lover's baby._

_Every waking moment after that realization was hell. She spent night after night, lying awake, trying to decide if she should tell Terry he was a father. Would he change his mind and accept his responsibility, welcoming her back with open arms? Would he swear to take care of her and baby for the rest of their lives? Or would he push her away again like he did before? She was dying to hear his voice again, to let him wrap his strong arms around her back and hold her close, to taste those soft lips again and it was then that she admitted it to herself. After months of isolation and anger, she was still in love with him. But it didn't matter. Love wasn't enough for her family to forgive her. Love wasn't enough to have kept Jack alive. And love certainly wasn't enough for Terry to take her back. She had to face it at some point in her life. Now was a damn good time. _

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A/N: I decided to split Melanie's memories into two chapters. Lazy, yes, but I **do** have a life. …Okay, no I don't, but I have to stop at some point. More to come soon. Review and let me how you like it so far. I love you all.


	7. Descend to Darkness Part 2

Here's Your Letter 

Chapter 7

A/N: The second half of Melanie's memories after she and Terry broke up. Thanks for being patient. This is still a Work in Progress so I've got quite a lot of work left to do. I'm grateful for all those reading and actually REVIEW. (pointed glare) Hope you like this chapter.

Kyoko

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_The silence was unbearable._

_She was in Zack's apartment, waiting in the darkness for him to reply to what she had told him. He was facing the window, watching the rain beat against the glass, the faint glow of the tip of his cigarette glinting in the reflection. Her hands were clammy and clenched around her waist to keep from shaking as she waited. It was like she was on trial all over again. In some ways, she was._

"_So it isn't mine?" His voice was colder than ice. Melanie felt a stab of shame and weakly answered, _

"_No."_

"_Then what makes you think I care?"_

_Melanie closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cry, fingernails digging into her hips. She exhaled slowly, composing herself, and gathered up the courage to speak again._

"_I'm not asking you to take care of the baby. I just thought you had a right to know."_

_And just like that, it was over. Another person was gone out of her life, leaving her hollow and empty once more. She turned away and walked out, still fighting the tears._

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_The baby was born seven months later, on July 15th. It was a girl. Melanie named her Emily Meredith, after a best friend from her childhood. They lost contact after the Gang began to move once she'd "come of age". A few days before she went into labor, the restaurant job went under and she found herself jobless. She was nineteen, had a baby, no family, no friends, no job, and barely any money, which made her a perfect victim of Gotham City's cruelty. She stayed at Gotham General for as long as possible, but they soon pushed her out on her own. Finding a job was nearly impossible considering her criminal past of being a thief. Days dwindled and the last of her funds followed them until she and the baby were on the verge of bankruptcy and homelessness. She'd reached for the phone at least once a day, her hand aching to dial Terry's number and to beg him to take her back but stubborn pride wouldn't let her do it, not after he'd dumped her. So she suffered in silence, balancing her job search with taking care of the newborn, whose eyes ironically were pale shadows of her father's, a daily reminder of what she'd lost. In the end, her hand reached for the phone and dialed a number._

"_What?" His voice was gruff from irritation and smoke._

"_I…I need your help. Please—don't hang up."_

_Silence. "What is it?"_

"_I need m-money. Can you help me take out a loan?"_

"_Why should I?"_

_Her voice began to falter. "Please, Zack, I can't get it on my own because of my record and I'm almost out of money. I'm not asking you for me, I'm…I'm asking for my daughter."_

_He was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was still flat and emotionless. _

"_Alright. I'll help you. Meet me at the restaurant downtown called The Sweet Spot at nine o'clock tonight. Come to the Manager's Office."_

_Before she could thank him, the phone line went dead. Melanie glanced at the clock. It was a little bit past eight-thirty._

_Emily was in her crib, blissfully unaware of her mother's presence in the small bedroom. Melanie bent and kissed the top of her daughter's head, pulling the blanket up over her tiny body, and left._

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_The drive to the restaurant didn't take very long, but sitting in the car, wondering if she was doing the right thing—or hell, the smart thing—made it seem like an eternity. Melanie knew Zack wasn't a saint and hadn't the faintest idea what his funds were like, but he was all she had left. And besides, she was willing to make any kind of sacrifice to take care of Emily. The thought of losing her scared her more than the thought of what kind of demands Zack would make._

_The Sweet Spot was French restaurant famous in Gotham City for its sinfully sweet dessert items given free at the end of each meal. It was almost always packed, day and night, and was owned by Keith Green, a wealthy young man who moved to Gotham after several years of culinary arts school._

_As she entered, a bitter smile touched Melanie's lips. It had been months since she'd been out to eat, especially at a place this nice. She stepped to the side of the long line of people, nervously smoothing down the hem of her wrinkled, black long-sleeved shirt, and waved to get the attention of maitre'd. _

"_I…I have a meeting with Zack Montell. In the Manager's Office."_

_The sandy-haired attendant briefly scanned the list on the desk and nodded. _

"_Follow me, please."_

_A wall split the entrance to the sitting tables, with booths lined up against both sides and tables fit comfortably in two rows beside them. Melanie followed the maitre'd to the right, away from the dirty looks the people in line were giving her, past the main room to the back corner, where a wall hid the kitchen and bathrooms. She turned the corner into a narrow hallway, lit by the lights from the kitchen bustling with noise and clatter. The smell of food made her stomach growl and she tried her best to mask her hunger, holding a hand over her abdomen as if it could muffle the sound. At the end of the hall was a grey door with black letters reading, "Manager's Office". The maitre'd opened the door for her and she timidly stepped inside the room._

_Melanie blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness, and focused on the desk at the back of the room illuminated by an overhanging lamp. There were two couches on either side of her against the wall, two file cabinets next to them, and a few frames with pictures of Keith Green. Zack was seated at the desk, his feet propped up on the top, smoking as usual. She approached with slight apprehension, rubbing her arm nervously._

"_Zack?"_

_He exhaled a mouthful of smoke in a stream, eyes closed, a blank expression on his shadowed face._

"_What can you do for me if I give you this loan?"_

_Melanie flinched slightly. "…Anything."_

_He opened his eyes and looked at her then. "That covers a lot of ground, you know." He dropped his feet to the floor and stood, walking around the desk and extinguishing the cigarette. _

"_I want you to swear to me that you'll do exactly what I say, when I say it, no objections. From this day on, you are my property, is that understood?"_

_A cold clutch of fear crawled up in Melanie's gut and settled, a slight tremble making her hands shake as she stared up at him and his dead eyes. This was the only way. Her only out. Emily's only chance to survive._

_She closed her eyes, head bowing. Her lips parted._

"…_Yes."_

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A/N: Thank you all for being so patient. I know it must be unbearable and I am very sorry. I work on this story when I can and I promise to try harder. Please review.

Kyoko


	8. Pieces

Here's Your Letter 

Chapter 8

A/N: (dances) Hey! Look! I'm breaking the seven-chapter curse! Whoo hoo!

…Ahem, anyway…moshi wake arimasen. That means "I have no excuse for myself" in Japanese. And I don't. I'm so sorry for the horrifically long absence. If I get no reviews, I understand why. Please forgive me. My creativity has died and so my writing skills kind of went along with it. I hope this chapter is bearable.

Kyoko

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"What have you got for me, Max?"

She smiled faintly. "Been a long time since I heard that. His name is Louis Ferguson. Age 42, single, high school education, dropped out of Florida State freshman year, opened _The Dark Fantasy_ four years ago. Criminal record includes two arrests for DUI and over fifty unpaid parking tickets. He's worse than my brother-in-law." Max added dryly, pausing to sip her coffee.

Terry smirked slightly. He'd met the infamous Lamar at Max's wedding. That guy could drain a 40 oz in less than a minute. "That's nice, but none of this is really helping me here."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't get your Bat-undies in a twist, McGinnis. What exactly am I looking for?"

"Try phone records. Look for the number 555-631-2874. Check for recent calls."

Max scanned the page for a few minutes before answering. "No such luck. Anything else?"

"Not in his department. I need you to trace a call for me. I need a name and room for a phone number." He read it to her and she scribbled it on the pizza box next to her laptop with a pen.

"Alright. I'll call you back when I have it."

"Thanks a lot, Max."

"You're welcome. My bill will be in the mail."

He chuckled. "Bye."

"Bye."

Terry switched his focus to the alleyway below him as the back door to _The Dark Fantasy_ opened and a woman walked out, an unlit cigarette in her hand. He couldn't go in as himself because too many people might recognize him. But it was time he got some answers.

"Smoking's bad for you, you know."

The brunette blinked as a deep voice spoke from her left. Batman stepped out from the shadows and stopped a few feet in front of her. She didn't smile, just flicked her thumb on the lighter to start the flame.

"I work at a strip club. You can't get much worse than that."

Batman cocked his head slightly. She had a point.

"Do you know a woman named Melanie Walker?"

She shrugged, leaning against the wall and tucking an arm under her chest.

"Maybe. Why?"

"I have reason to believe she's involved in something dealing with drugs."

The woman turned her russet eyes on him, something haunted and bitter flickering across them. "A lot of girls here are. What's it to you?"

"If she's connected to a drug ring, then it's my concern."

The brunette paused to inhale, eyes closed. After a moment, she opened them and looked at him, her face considering. "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?"

She flicked ashes off the end of the cig. "A decent job. Nothin' fancy, I'm just sick of this place and having to get by on my ability to slide down a pole."

Batman nodded slightly. "I can get you one. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me what you know."

She shoved one hand inside the pocket of her mink coat, settling against the wall more firmly.

"You know the guy who owns the club, ole Louie? Well, he rents this place out to Jokerz once a month. In return, they give him a cut of the money they make sellin' Harley."

Batman's eyes widened. "Harley" was what they called the drug they sold on the black market nowadays. Throwback to the original, he guessed.

"The guy who deals it to the girls comes with them each month. His name's Zack. I don't know his last name, though."

"Can you give me a description of him?"

She shrugged. " 'Bout my height, brown hair, real dark brown eyes. Usually hangs around this restaurant called _The Sweet Spot_. Word is he and Mel used to be an item."

"Is he a Joker?"

"I don't know."

"Right." Batman reached in his belt and drew a business card, holding it out to her. "Call this number and ask for Pamela Thompkins. She'll set you up with a new job. Thanks."

The brunette smiled and took the card. "No problem. And if you're ever in the neighborhood…look me up. I've got a free dance with your name on it."

She tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out before turning to go inside. Batman spread his wings and blasted back up to the rooftops, shaking his head slightly.

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"What you got, Chuck?"

"Richie-Rich here's definitely the father. I doubt he knows it, though. C.E.O of Wayne Corporations, mother lives in Uptown, one younger brother, graduate from Gotham Tech, yada, yada, yada. A real Boy Scout. Only went to Juvie for three months. Never even gotten pulled over since. I don't see what your girl saw in 'im."

Zack continued to pace, flipping his favorite scythe blade open and closed while one of the Jokerz read him a profile on Terry McGinnis.

"What about the old man?"

"What? Wayne? The guy's like four hundred years old. He's still loaded, but I bet you cash if you slit his throat, dust would come out. 'Sides, that mansion is guarded like a damn palace. I remember my friend Mel tried to break in once. Went to jail with a chunk of his ass missing."

"Hm. Seems to me like I've got a lot of angles to go on."

Chuck shrugged, leaning back in his chair and craning his neck to look at his boss. "True, but d'you think the broad'll spill?"

Zack snorted. "Not if she knows what's good for her. Mel's not a fighter any more. And I doped her up with enough Harley to keep her from forming sentences for a while."

The thug nodded. "So now what?"

"The big Hit goes down tomorrow night. I want this cleared up before then. When Mel wakes up, tail her and see if she stays in contact with him. If not, go through the old man."

Chuck nodded, rising and whistling at the other four Jokerz hanging around a table playing cards.

"Let's go, boys." They left.

Zack stuffed the blade in his pocket as his cell phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"You tryin' to get me in trouble here, Zack?"

He frowned. "What the hell are you talkin' about, Louie?"

"I just heard from a very reliable source that Batman was snoopin' around my club a few minutes ago."

Zack was silent for a handful of seconds. "What?" he demanded.

"You heard me, ya schmuck. The Bat's bad for business and you know that. I want answers, Zack, **now**."

His fist tightened around the phone for a moment as realization sunk in. "If Melanie comes in for her shift tomorrow night, send her to me. I'll clear this up for ya, Louie, I swear."

The man on the line snorted. "You'd better."

The line went dead.

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"Terry?"

"Yeah?" he answered lowly, in the middle of peering into a second-floor window of _The Sweet Spot_.

"I've got your info. Her name is Emily Meredith Walker, room 28 in the Freemont dorm. That's where your friend's been making calls."

Batman's eyes widened. "Wait, did you just say 'Walker'?"

"Yeah, why?"

His mind began to race, a sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through his veins. That couldn't be right. That would mean that…that the picture he'd seen in Melanie's room wasn't her.

It was her daughter.

"Ter, is there something you need to tell me? Who exactly is this Melanie to you? What's going on?"

"I…Max, I'll have to call you back. I swear I'll explain later."

She sighed heavily. "Alright." She hung up and shook her head, removing the headset.

"God, McGinnis, what have you gotten yourself into?"

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Melanie stirred as her cat licked the side of her face, mewling softly to awaken her. She moaned and cradled one side of her face as it ached, wincing as a headache exploded through her forehead. She blinked in the darkness a few times to adjust and frowned as she realized she was in her own room. How had she gotten here?

A sharp pain emanated in her mind and she saw Terry's face, remembered his hands on her arms, shaking her awake, and the warmth of his neck as she sobbed brokenly into it. It all came in pieces. _Zack…the Jokerz…smoke…cold…Terry…_

She sat up slowly and his jacket slid down her front to crumple in her lap. It was warm and it still smelled like him. Melanie made a bitter noise in her throat and tossed it aside, sliding her legs over the edge of the mattress. Jack meowed again and she stroked his head shortly, watching the small animal crawl into her lap and smiling sadly at him.

"In too deep, Jack."

She stood, wavering only slightly, and went for the door, opening it. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher to wet her dry throat. Where was Terry now? Poking his nose in more of her business? Saving a kitten stuck in a tree? Romancing some bimbo at a fancy restaurant?

She frowned. Where had that last one come from? Melanie shook her head, wincing again as it stung. She needed to talk to Emily, just to make sure she was safe. It cost less to use her cell phone so she set about looking for it.

Not in the bedroom, kitchen, or bathroom. Where the hell was her purse? Maybe Terry's car was still outside.

After letting Jack out, Melanie exited her apartment and went downstairs to the outside. Several streetlights illuminated the dark, dirty sidewalk where only one car was parked. After all, it was nearly one in the morning. It was a black Cadillac. No one in this neighborhood could afford one, so it must've been Terry's.

She peered through the driver's side window and spotted her purse on the passenger's side. Perfect. How would she get it now?

Melanie tugged on the lock and nearly jumped in surprise as it opened. "Huh. He must've been in a hurry." She muttered to herself, crawling across the driver's seat to retrieve the purse. After checking that everything including her cell phone was inside, she started to crawl backwards to get out, but paused. She had never been inside such a nice car…

Glancing furtively from side to side, she relaxed her knees against the leather for a moment and admired the dashboard. The interior was done in polished cherrywood and silver. Smooth. Her eyes drew themselves to the glove compartment. She had a sudden impulse to look inside and mentally debated with herself over whether she had the right to. No…but she _wanted_ to.

A small silver button popped the small compartment on the passenger's side open and were a stack of folded papers and envelopes. Intrigued, Melanie leafed through them one by one. Proof of insurance, car repair information, receipts, stock tips, a couple of menus to local Chinese restaurants, and other things. But one thing did catch her eye.

Stuffing the other papers back, Melanie stared down at a folded note with her name on it. Why was this in his car? Should she read it?

Her gut told her not to. There was no telling how old this letter was. Anything written on it could open up an old, closed door she'd vowed to never open again. But still…

Taking a deep breath, Melanie opened the letter.

_Melanie,_

_There is nothing I can say to make you understand why I didn't answer your letter. I never read it. The truth is I was afraid of what it might say. That you loved me and you were sorry for using me. That you weren't who I thought you were. That you missed what we had that night we spent together. I couldn't take that risk because I was afraid that it could change everything. And now I'm beginning to realize that maybe that was a risk I should have taken._

_I'm sorry, Melanie. I'm sorry that this didn't work out. I'm sorry that I couldn't handle what could have been. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I know it doesn't make a difference to you but…I won't forget you. Ever. I hope you can understand that._

_Terry_

Silence. She could hear her own heart in her ears and it was a thick whisper, surging blood slowly through her system, sending a warm, almost hot trickle down her spine. She continued to stare at the page, her fingers digging into the paper, wrinkling it, trying to hold in the rush of emotions triggered by the words written on the page. Her lips moved once, twice, and a hoarse whisper escaped them.

"Goddamn you, Terry. Goddamn you…"

**Here's a letter for you **

**But the words get confused**

**And the conversation dies**

**Apologize for the past**

**Talk some shit **

**Take it back**

**Are we cursed to this life?**

**I can't let this kill me**

**Let go**

**I need some more time to fix this problem**

**I need some more time to fix this problem**

**I need some more time to fix this… **

Hands shaking, she tried to close the glove compartment, tears now slowly making tracks down her cheeks, and almost yelled in frustration as it wouldn't close. A foreign object clattered from out of it and hit the floor of the car. Melanie froze.

It had been…red.

She reached down and grasped the smooth, cold object and lifted it into the light, gasping as it glinted dangerously in her hand.

It was a batarang.

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A/N: Oooh! Suspense! Want to know how to relieve it? Review!

Kyoko


	9. Confrontation

Here's Your Letter 

Chapter 9

A/N: Okay, a lot of heavy stuff went down last chapter so now…the confrontation! (quiver) PLEASE let me know what you think at the end of the chapter because I really need the feedback to determine where this story is going to end up. Look at it this way: YOU control the story. So use your powers for good. :D

Kyoko

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"_Melanie?"_

"_Terry…I…I can't see you tonight."_

_He felt a jerk in his gut, a foreboding, and unpleasant feeling following it. "Something come up? School work?" he asked hopefully._

"_No."_

"_Then what is it?"_

"_I…I can't see you again…ever."_

_He felt something in him shatter. His worst fear was coming true. "Why?"_

"_It just…didn't work out. I gotta go now." There was something in her voice, the way she sounded. It was beyond sadness, beyond grief. She sounded…trapped._

"_Melanie, there's something wrong, isn't there? Tell me."_

"_There's nothing wrong. **Nothing**. Goodbye, Terry." The line went dead. _

The scene played over and over in his head as he soared over the streets of Gotham with one thing in mind: confronting Melanie. Nothing else mattered right now if what he thought was true: not Max, not the Jokerz, not even Dana. How could she not tell him they had a daughter? What else was she keeping from him?

His fist tightened on the steering wheel of the Batmobile and the vehicle went faster, reacting to his adrenaline level. It was time to get his answers.

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_His lips were soft as she pressed her own to them, melting her body against his, pouring herself into him, savoring the contact. The kiss deepened and he made a small sound, suddenly moving full against her. She let him push her flat on the bed and looped her arms around his neck, making a soft noise as one of his hands trailed down her side, causing goosebumps to spill across her arms. It came to rest on the outside of her thigh and suddenly, he pushed up on his palms in panic._

_Melanie blinked in surprise as he moved away from her, shaking his head slightly._

_"Melanie… I can't do this. It wouldn't be fair to you."_

_Her eyes softened and she slid to her knees, crawling over to him. Gently, she turned his face towards hers._

_"Terry…I want this. You won't hurt me."_

_He caught her wrists as she tried to touch him, still unwilling to meet her eyes._

_"It's not just that. There's…a girl. I'm seeing someone."_

_Melanie flinched. She was afraid of that. She'd come all this way only to lose him to someone else._

_Terry watched her battle with her emotions, trying to keep her face blank, and loosened his grip on her wrists. "Melanie…look, I—"_

_She shook her head, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed. "No, you're right. I…I shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake."_

_She started to walk away, but he caught her arm. "Wait! You can't go. I promised I'd help you, didn't I?"_

_Melanie didn't turn around. She didn't want to see his eyes, his face, and go through what she had gone through when she left him all over again. It would be so much easier to leave, to hide back in the darkness where she belonged, alone. She was always alone._

_"Let me go, Terry. This isn't what you want. **I'm** not what you want." She hated herself for saying that last part. It sounded so selfish._

_"Mel—"_

_"No! Let me go! I can't stay here any more!" She tried to yank her arm free of his grip, hating the tears that had started to edge out of her eyes, clawing uselessly at his hand. He turned her around and she hit his chest over and over again, sobbing. Finally, she fell against his chest and cried, the walls around her crumbling, revealing what she really was: a fallen angel, lost in the darkness, forever lonely and lost. For a moment, he didn't move._

_Gently, he tilted her face up to his and kissed her, brushing the tears away with his thumb. She stopped crying as he moved them backwards toward the bed, his touch light and everything she dreamed of._

She heard the front door burst open and didn't flinch, not even bothering to look up from her tea as Terry stalked into the room, his anger boiling around him like a storm.

"We need to talk. NOW."

Melanie set the mug down calmly, her voice flat and cold. "Yes, we do."

"Why didn't you tell me about Emily?"

Her pale eyes flickered up to his face and they were the same as his: burning with anger.

"Because it wouldn't have made a difference."

Terry's hands clenched into fists, his eyes narrowing. "How can you say that? If I'd have known you were pregnant, none of this would have happened—"

Melanie pushed to her feet, standing to face him. "Well, you never called to find out, now did you? I figured you didn't care anyway because I wasn't part of your 'perfect life'. You **chose** to leave me out of your life so I **chose** to leave you out of hers. She didn't need you then and she doesn't need you now."

"Oh, I can see how well things went from that decision," he snapped sarcastically, waving a hand at their dismal surroundings. Melanie's hands clenched into fists as well.

"At least I worked for it. Everything in your life was given to you by old man Wayne. You don't even know what it's like to have to work for anything."

He flinched, pausing for a moment as he realized the truth in her words. "We're getting off subject. You should have told me. We may not have ended up 'happily ever after', but at least she could have gotten to know her father."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want her to?"

Terry froze. There was nothing he could say that. Maybe he'd been fooling himself all these years, thinking that she was tearing herself apart because she loved him and didn't tell him about Emily out of spite. But now…

"What are you saying then, Melanie? That what we had was a mistake? That you weren't in love with me?"

His voice was quieter now, the anger drained out of it and replaced with something she couldn't quite place. Her anger receded as well and she fell silent, thinking back to the past.

_"What is it?"_

_She turned her face away. "Nothing."_

_"C'mon; something's bothering you, I can tell."_

_She sighed, giving in. "It's my family. I…I think we're gonna be moving again." She moved away, trying not to see the expression on his face, the hurt clouding those baby blues._

_"How soon?"_

_"Real soon."_

_He followed her, touching her arms gently. "A month? A week?"_

_"I don't wanna think that far ahead. Live for the moment, y'know?" She tried to smile, but she couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes, touching the side of his face as if trying to remember what he felt like. Trying to feel if he was real or just a dream. Her dream._

**I'm talking to the ceiling**

**My life just lost all meaning**

**Do one thing for me tonight**

**I'm dying in this silence**

**The last star left in heaven**

**Is falling down to Earth and**

**Do you still feel the same way?**

**Do you still feel the same way?**

Her lips parted, then closed. What could she say? Admit to him that she loved him? What would that change?

Reaching in her pocket, she flung the letter at kitchen table and forced herself to look at him.

"Here's your letter. You tell me."

Terry stared at the paper that fluttered towards him, his heart stuck in his throat. It was the letter he'd written a few days after he'd received hers. The guilt had eaten him up so bad that he wrote one just to get his feelings out of the way. He never intended for her to see it.

**I can't let this kill me**

**Let go**

**I need some more time to fix this problem**

**I need some more time to fix this problem**

**I need some more time to fix this.**

Neither of them spoke for a while, lost in internal memories, both unwilling to admit the truth: that they fell in love at the wrong time. A long sigh escaped him.

"…I'm sorry, Melanie."

He spoke finally in a quiet tone, eyes glued to the floor. He couldn't bear to look at her after everything that had passed between them. Melanie hugged her sides, thankful that the darkness hid her face and the sadness in it. The moonlight from the window beside them shone its rays on the crumpled note, illuminating the words "I'm sorry" as if the heavens themselves were compelling her to forgive him.

She finally nodded. It was time to move on, whether she wanted to or not.

"So…where do we go from here?" she asked softly, still staring into the shadows. Terry glanced up at her and she met his eyes.

"Depends. Where do you want it to go from here?"

She sighed and sat back down in the chair, fingering the edge of the mug as she tried to piece together something to say.

"I…don't know. It's kind of late, don't you think?"

He took a seat across from her, smiling faintly. "You know what they say: better late than never."

"Yeah." she murmured, taking a sip of the lukewarm tea. "I guess you have a lot of questions about her, huh?"

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. True enough, he wanted to know everything about his daughter, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"I do, but there's something else we need to clear up first. Like your friend Zack, the drug dealer."

Melanie froze, unable to mask her shock. She stiffened and forced herself to meet his accusing eyes.

"How did you know about—"

"That's not important." He interrupted. "Melanie, I don't want you to get involved with these people. It's not safe."

She frowned at him. "I appreciate the gesture, but you're about fifteen years too late. There's nothing I can do but pay off the debt."

"Then why not turn him in?"

"Because I haven't been living a picture perfect life, Terry. He's got enough dirt on me to drag me down with him. He's got too many ties to this city's underbelly and I am not about to endanger Emily by going on a holy mission."

She stood and dumped the rest of her tea in the sink, leaning against the counter with her head bowed for a moment.

"You don't know what they do to girls like me in his world. It's a fate worse than death."

Terry rose and went to her, touching her arm to turn her around. "Then let me help you. I can get you out of this if you just let me try."

Melanie smiled sadly up at him, touching the side of his face. "Always trying to save the world, aren't you?"

The beginnings of a smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. "No. Just yours."

They kissed in each other's arms and it was as if they were teenagers again, the long buried electricity between them resurfacing and sending shivers down their spines. Something tight in Melanie's chest relaxed and a slow warmth began to build in its place. Terry drew back first, pausing to lean his forehead against hers.

"Are we still in a fight?"

Her voice was breathless, an eyebrow lifted at his question. "What do you think?"

He almost smiled, but his mind was somewhere else. Dana. If he took this step with Melanie, there was no going back.

Melanie's face sobered a bit as she gazed up at him, watching as he began to draw back into himself.

"I know that look. It's been twenty years and I still know that look. You're involved with someone, aren't you?"

This was it—the last chance they would get at this. It was now or never. For years, he had been with Dana and now he was here, staring into wintry eyes that had been waiting for him for what seemed like a lifetime. Losing his almost fiancé hurt but there was something that had been missing in their relationship that was abundant in Melanie: passion. A ride on the side where nothing was definite and everything was more beautiful because it never lasted. That was what he had been searching for, why he never proposed to Dana during those years, whether it was conscious or not.

He finally found his voice.

"No. I'm not."

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A/N: CONTROL THE STORY. Muaha. Review.

Kyoko


	10. The Calm Before

Here's Your Letter 

Chapter 10

A/N: Hello again, all. Here's another chapter for your reading pleasure. I've basically given up asking for reviews so enjoy this chapter without any further ado.

Kyoko

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"I thought they would have faded by now."

"They say scars never really heal until the pain that caused them goes away."

"…I'm sorry."

"I know. Everyone always is."

Melanie lay on her side, the covers wrapped around her like a nest, watching with soft eyes as Terry traced the thin scars across her wrist. Fifteen had been a very rough year; it was the first year she met a boy and thought she fell in love. The night after she lost her virginity, her family moved again. Suicide suddenly seemed like a good idea.

They had been lying in bed for over an hour now, speaking quietly of the past in the comfortable darkness of her bedroom. Memories seemed to be a poison both were all too eager to drink and for once, they could share them freely with each other now that everything was out in the open.

Terry pressed a gentle kiss to her skin before sliding his hand over hers and interlocking their fingers, shifting closer to her on his side.

"What happened to them?" he asked softly. She stared at the white sheets around her for a long moment before speaking.

"I got a call one day about four years ago on my birthday. It was my mom. Dad was dying of liver disease and she wanted me to come see him. When I got there, he wouldn't let me in the room. He died an hour after that."

He squeezed her hand, whispering, "Mel…"

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. That's how my father was. Loyalty to the gang was more important than family. It's better he died believing that than pretending to love me."

"What about your mom?"

"That was the last time I saw her. She said she was moving back to England with her new husband. Hugh, I think it was."

Melanie scooted closer to him, touching the side of his face with a small smile. He kissed the palm of her hand and returned the smile.

"I'm tired of talking about me. Let's heart something interesting about you."

He chuckled softly. "Like what?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "What's it like being the richest man in Gotham?"

His smile changed into a smirk. "It's not as glamorous as you think it is. Lots of late hours and faking it for the cameras. I don't know how the old man put up with it."

Melanie's eyes glinted with interest. "What's he like? I only hear rumors. They say back in the day, he slept with over half of the women in Gotham City."

Terry blushed, laughing nervously. "Ah, no. That's totally a rumor. He never even got married."

"What a shame. I've seen history cubes on him—he was a fox."

He pretended to scowl at her and she laughed gently. Terry relaxed at the sound. How long had it been since he'd heard her laugh? It was a breezy, comforting sound; light and sweet like cotton candy. He'd never met anyone with such an infectious laugh.

"Not like you, though," Melanie murmured when she'd stopped laughing.

"I think this might be the first time I've laughed in fifteen years."

His eyes softened on her. "What about with Emily?"

She shook her head again. "No, that was all pretend. I never admitted it to myself but…you're the only person who's ever made me truly happy. I can't believe I was so blind to it."

Terry leaned forward and kissed her, sliding an arm around her waist and bringing her closer to his body. Melanie sighed into his mouth, her eyes closing. She'd forgotten what it was like to have someone treat her tenderly, to kiss her like she was a woman, not a sex object. Everything about him was so different; the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way he made love to her. How could she have ever forgotten him?

"If it's any constellation," he whispered once they broke apart. "I never felt the way about anyone as I did about you. Even after all these years."

She tried to smile but couldn't all the way. Something else was pressing from the back of her mind, something serious that she knew they needed to talk about, but didn't want to. Not when they were this happy, _finally_. But she knew better. The more you ignored it, the worse the result was later on.

"That's a nice thought, but…we need to talk about something else."

Terry drifted lower to the spot between her neck and shoulder, pressing soft kisses there while one of his hands trailed down her side, rumpling the sheets and making her lose focus for a moment.

"Like what?"

The invading hand had found a gap in her sheets. Melanie couldn't remember what she was talking about.

"…Never mind."

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"No, I don't know where he is."

"Gee, nice to hear from you too, old man."

"This isn't a social call, is it?"

"And what if it is?" she questioned, caught between annoyance and slight amusement.

"It's three A.M. It damn well better not be."

Max chuckled in spite of herself. "Hi, Bruce."

"What do you want?"

She almost grinned. The old man was truly not a morning person. "What do you know about Melanie Walker?"

There was a long pause. "I don't think it's my place to tell you that."

Max groaned in frustration, burying a hand in her scalp-length black hair. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Am I ever?"

"I think Terry's getting mixed up with her. In a _bad_ way."

"Why should you care? You're married."

She paused to glare at the phone. "It's not like **that**. He's been calling me all night to look up numbers for him. And he won't tell me what's going on. Am I _not_ supposed to be curious?"

"You know what they say about curiosity…" the old man replied cryptically. Max snorted.

"You'd know better than anyone," she muttered under her breath.

"I heard that."

She winced. "Sorry. Are you gonna tell me or not? I could always call the hospital and tell them you're off your meds…"

Another long pause. Max knew it was a long shot. Bruce never responded well to threats.

"When you two were teenagers, before you found out that Terry was Batman, he and Miss Walker had a brief…relationship. As you know, back then, Melanie Walker was a member of the Royal Flush Gang. Once Terry found out, he had to take them down and her along with them."

Max breathed into the phone, processing the information. Melanie Walker…hadn't she looked up a number for an Emily Walker? That could only mean that Emily was a younger sister or…

"You there?"

She snapped out of her thoughts. "Yeah, I'm here."

"You're not gonna poke your nose into his business again, are you?" There was a warm undercurrent of sarcasm in his voice coupled with disapproval. Max gnawed on her bottom lip. The overwhelming urge to find out what the hell was going on crawled up in her gut and stayed there. She was so used to it. Old habits die hard.

"…No. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't making a mistake."

"That isn't your decision, Max. It's his. You know that." His voice was a bit softer now, not exactly condescending but almost chiding. It was fatherly tone, one that she hadn't heard since she left Gotham.

A long sigh escaped her as she leaned back on the couch, dragging her fingers down her face. "Yeah, I know." She answered softly.

"Now go to bed."

A surprised laugh escaped her. "Yes, sir. Good night. Er. Morning."

"Bye."

"Bye, Bruce. It was good to hear from you."

"…You too." The phone went dead.

Max hung the phone back on the receiver and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The new information was hard to swallow. If she were right, then Emily Walker would be Melanie's daughter. Was she Terry's child? Had he known all this time? Was that why he and Dana didn't make it? Hell, was that why he and _she_ never made it?

Darryl poked his head out of the bedroom door, pale light pouring into the den where she lay.

"Hon, it's three A.M. What 're you doin'?"

"Huh?" Max sat up and smiled apologetically at her disgruntled husband.

"Sorry, baby. Had some affairs to put in order."

The sleepy look on his rugged face lessened as he smirked. "Affairs? What, am I not fulfilling my husbandly duties well enough?"

She grinned, rising and walking towards him. She kissed him softly, running a hand along his bare chest.

"No, you're doing that just fine."

He relaxed, sliding an arm around her back. "Good. Now come to bed."

She followed him into the bedroom.

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The next morning…

Melanie stirred slowly as sunlight struck her eyelids, turning over onto her stomach to avoid it. She laid there for a moment, face down in a pillow, breathing in the warm scent that seemed familiar, then lifted up on her elbows enough to look around. The bed was empty.

Considerably more awake, she sat up, gathering the sheets around her nude form, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. The bedroom door was closed and Terry's jacket and clothes were nowhere in sight. Fear clutched at her abdomen and made her skin feel cold. Where had he gone?

She glanced around the bed for a moment before finding her robe and pulled it on, venturing to open the door.

"Terry?"

She was greeted by silence. The cold feeling began to spread, making her hands tremble ever so slightly as she walked into the kitchen. On the round table was a folded note with her name on it.

_Melanie,_

_Sorry to leave so soon, but I've got work to do today. I'll see you tonight at around seven. I love you._

_Terry_

A wash of relief flooded through her. So it wasn't a dream. He really loved her and was coming back. After years of waiting and suffering and being lost, she finally had what she wanted all along.

A knock sounded on her door. Melanie blinked, dropping the note on the table. Who could be here this early?

"Just a minute!" she called, scurrying back to her room to get dressed. After throwing on undergarments, a pair of wrinkled jeans, and an oversized t-shirt, she jogged to the door and cracked it open.

A painted face greeted her, grinning wickedly at the look of utter terror on her face.

"Stop me if you've heard this one before…"

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A/N: Hm. This is interesting. The story sort of ran off without me and now I'm kind of amused at where it went. That's a good sign, though, that it's writing itself. You know what another good sign is? Reviews. :D

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next one's coming soon. Sorry for the delay—my Internet at home is on the fritz.

Kyoko


	11. The Fallen

**Here's Your Letter**

Chapter 11

A/N: Hi. It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry. Senior year and all that jive. And besides, I'm rewarding you for all your faithfulness this time. There's a surprise for you at the end of this chapter. Stay tuned and enjoy…

And by the way, one F-bomb in this chapter. I haven't decided if the rating is going to change. Probably will. Thanks for reading!

Kyoko

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BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

A long, slender limb emerged from beneath the covers of a twin-sized bed and fumbled around for the "Off" switch of the whining alarm clock. Once it went off, the arm dropped over the side of the mattress, a drowsy groan emitting from its occupant.

Emily Walker lay on his her side, cursing whatever deity that controlled the universe because she had only gotten three hours of sleep. Damn Gloria and her party. It was all her fault.

With a lazy grunt, the nineteen year-old managed to crane her neck, twisting the upper half of her body as she did, and looked at the time. 7:00 AM. It was just too damn early for this crap.

Emily let her face drop back into the pillow and sighed, knowing that she was going to be sore and cranky the entire day. Luckily, she only had two classes so she could crash sooner. Events from the night before slowly emerged from the cob-webbed corners of her mind, causing a slight frown to crinkle her brow. Something about a plasma screen TV, wine coolers, someone starting up a Halo V Tournament, Nathan offering her some Harley, and a very drunken version of Twister. That was the last birthday party she was ever going to off-campus at her roommate's boyfriend's house. In company of the muddled recollections was a sudden, sharp headache—the kind that felt like someone was slowly squeezing her skull between their hands. She moaned groggily and tossed back the covers, squinting as the brightness of morning invaded her eyes and intending to dig some Chasers out of her purse.

She was tall and slender, much like her mother, with a build similar to a model's: more legs and waistline than breasts and backside. Her hair was normally blonde, but she'd dyed it a soft, light brown, which brought out her pale blue eyes. Her face was triangular with a small, pointed nose and full lips. She never doubted for a second that she was beautiful, but always saw it as unimportant. The world was full of pretty girls. Maybe that was why her mother was such a wreck.

After downing a couple Chasers, Emily prodded her roommate, Gloria, who mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, going back to sleep. Giving up, she sat back down on the bed and grabbed the half-empty pack of cigarettes on the nightstand and the silver lighter next to it. She liked the lighter. It had a dragon wrapped around it with the flame peeking out of its mouth. Too bad the guy who gave it to her was an asshole.

Leaning against the wall behind her bed, Emily sighed out a mouthful of smoke and let her tired mind wander over events both recent and past. She remembered the dream she had the night before, the one about the man with jet black hair and eyes like hers. She'd snuck into her mother's room one time when she was ten and saw his picture next to the gun. That man. Her father.

Her mother never talked about him much, and when she did, the comments were short, cold, and always the same. Or at least they were after the first time she ever asked about him.

"_Mommy?"_

_Melanie lay stretched out on the dingy couch, her bare feet propped up on the small, glass coffee table, a cold glass of water in one hand and two aspirin in the other. Emily hopped up from her knees on the carpet, eyes wide and curious._

"_How come I don't have a daddy?"_

_Her mother froze, the glass of water halfway to her lips. The six year-old continued to watch her with interest, twisting her small, round fingers in the hem of her pink dress. Melanie drained the cup and sat it down on the coffee table, patting the couch next to her._

"_Come here, sweetie." She said softly. Emily crawled up onto the cushion, dangling her legs over the edge. Her mother took several moments to think before answering._

"_Emily, do you remember the lions we saw at the zoo last week?"_

_The young girl nodded excitedly, her little face aglow with eagerness._

"_Do you remember how the Papa lion stayed in the den while the Mama lion would hunt and take care of all the little cubs?"_

_Emily nodded again. Melanie smiled faintly, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair away from her daughter's forehead to behind her ear tenderly. _

"_Sometimes real mommies have to take care of the babies away from their daddies. Do you understand?"_

_A frown of confusion began to form on Emily's face._

"_But why, Mommy?"_

_Melanie drew her into a hug, wrapping her tired arms around the small child's shoulders._

"_It doesn't matter why, baby. Your daddy loves you very much, but…he just can't be with us. But I've got you and you've got me. Isn't that right?"_

"_Yes." Came the saddened, muffled reply. Her mother kissed the top of her head, a smile chasing away the pain in her eyes._

"_Now, how about we go eat dinner at Cheesy Dan's?"_

_Instantly happy, Emily cried in excitement and ran for the bedroom to grab her coat._

Emily smiled bitterly, exhaling a stream of smoke. Lions. Nice analogy.

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"What can I get you, Mr. McGinnis?"

The waitress' smile was infectious. And wide. He wondered if it was hurting her face.

"Frappicino. Double. No foam."

The red-head typed in a few things on the digital order device.

"Will that be all?"

Terry paused for a second. "Got any Otis Spunkmeyer blueberry muffins?"

She nodded pleasantly.

"I'll take one of those."

"Okay. My name is Tracy and I'll be back with your order in a moment." She turned heel and flounced away. Terry caught the sound of a high-pitched squeal and a stream of excited words before shaking his head and opening his laptop. Teenagers. He could hardly believe he used to be one of them. And the muffins were Max's fault. She'd turned him onto them. Heart attack in a plastic wrapper, he used to call them.

He did his usual routine on the laptop: checked several different email addresses, go some stock tips, planned a few pretend vacations to keep the media off him for a while, and then settled into his true objective. His daughter.

Glancing over his shoulder warily, Terry began his search. Of course, these files were not supposed to be viewed by civilians but…he was the goddamn **Batman**.

The laptop had already been programmed with a codebreaker from the Batcomputer (which he'd fallen into the silly habit of calling it that) and brought him to the city's citizen files. He typed in her name and faces flew across the screen for several seconds, finally pausing on a face. He stared at it.

She was lovely.

Terry felt his eyes grow warm and soft, chuckling at himself in surprise. It was amazing, this fatherly feeling, and he was taken aback by how quickly the strange sense of pride struck him. He smirked slightly, admiring the picture. She had Melanie's hair, nose, and lips, but his ears and eyes. And by the look of the photo, she didn't like to take pictures either.

"Your double, Mr. McGinnis."

The red-haired waitress had appeared to his right, offering him the cup and the muffin. Smiling, he took them and leaned back in his seat, sipping the caffeine as he pulled Emily's full profile. She was 5'7'', 110 lbs, born on July 15th, 2040, a graduate from James Gordon High School, currently a freshman at Gotham University in Nursing School.

"Will that be all, Mr. McGinnis?"

He nodded, eyes glued to the screen. "Yeah, thanks."

"Um…"

He looked up. She had a tablet and a pen in her hands, a nervous, hopeful smile on her lips.

"Could…I have an autograph? If you don't mind?"

He smiled again and took them from her, signing his name. "What's your name again?"

"Tracy. Tracy Cooper." The girl replied eagerly. He wrote under it "You make one hell of a frappicino" and handed it back to her, shaking his head once more as the young girl scurried away to go show her friends. Teenagers.

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Dana was having trouble sleeping.

It was half-past 10:00 PM now in Tokyo, Japan and the long flight had left her exhausted. But still…she couldn't seem to get to sleep. She'd liked to think that it was because she was in this new bed, in this new house, with this new body lying next to hers, but she knew better.

Staring up at the ceiling, Dana allowed her mind a brief moment to travel back in time, back to that forever damned city of Gotham where the former love of her life lived. Was she doing the right thing? Had she left him too coldly? How did he feel? Would he come after her?

She frowned to herself. No. It was time it all came to an end. They had been dancing around the subject of "love" for too long. It would never have ended. He would miss something, they would argue, not speak for a while, make up, and start the cycle over again. She wouldn't—couldn't—do that to herself any more. It was a dead-end. Even though she knew the truth—that he was Batman—they couldn't continue to go on like that. She should have been happy or at least satisfied.

But she wasn't.

Moving carefully, Dana slid the covers back, careful not to wake Tamaki, and padded across the bedroom to her laptop on the other side, sitting on a plain, wooden desk. Well, while she was awake…

She'd gotten the usual amount of email, but plus some because of co-workers wishing her good luck in Tokyo. Even one from Max.

Dana's eyes widened as she read the message.

_Dana:_

**WHAT ARE YOU DOING?**

**HE WAS GOING TO PROPOSE TO YOU LAST NIGHT.**

_Call me._

Max 

She read the short email several times, a cold clutch of panic gripping her stomach. Terry had been…planning to propose?

Signing off, Dana shakily sat back in the chair, passing both hands over her face and through her short, black hair, settling them on her forehead. Terry had planned to propose to her on the night she decided to leave. What kind of cruel twist of fate was _that_?

She glanced backwards at her sleeping lover, who had rolled over with a sleepy grunt, heart thumping hard in her throat. She knew the truth no. The only question was…what should she do with it?

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"Hey, Meri!"

Emily looked up as Gloria jogged towards her. Her second class had just let out and she was heading back towards her dorm. She shielded her eyes as she turned slightly, the bright afternoon sun making her squint at her roommate.

"What's up?" she questioned once her friend was within hearing range.

"There's someone in the parking lot over there who wants to see you. He says it's important."

Emily rolled her eyes. "They **all** say it's important."

The black girl shrugged, smirking. "You never know. Plus, he is pretty cute…"

The brown-haired girl shook her head, amused. "Fine. Where was he?"

Gloria pointed behind her, towards the corner of the Science Building where the parking lot started.

"By a red Toyota. Tall guy, short white, spiky hair, black get-up. You can't miss him."

Emily snorted and waved as she headed in the direction indicated, calling back, "See you at dinner!" Sure enough, a pale boy was leaning against a fire-truck red pick-up, grinning as she approached.

"Emily, right?" He said in a deceptively deep voice for someone so skinny. The girl nodded, eyeing him curiously.

"What do you want?"

He glanced over his shoulder, leaning in closer. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a ride."

Emily rolled her eyes, turning to leave. He grabbed her upper arm, stopping her, and she whirled, instantly angry.

"Take your hand off me, dreg."

The white-haired boy only smiled, revealing sharpened canines.

"Ooh, tough girl. Hurt me, baby. I like pain."

She spared him a nasty smile. "Then you'll love this--!"

She stomped on her heel down on top of his foot and head-butted him in the nose, swaying slightly as a sharp pain followed in her forehead. The boy was on his back, moaning and clutching his nose. She smirked down at him.

"Asshole."

She turned heel to leave, but paused as a dry chuckle floated to her ears.

"Damn, that was a good shot. You've got more balls than your mom, _Meri_-dear."

A sudden cold feeling swam through Emily as she slowly turned, staring at him in shock. Only her mother and Gloria called her Meri, after her middle name.

"What did you say about my mother?" she demanded, dropping her bookbag, fists clenched in brace for a fight. The boy was dabbing the blood from his nose with his fingers, licking it off each one tauntingly.

"An old friend of your mother's requested that I bring you to the 'arrangement'. It's your choice, though. Unless you want to see your mommy dearest sliced up into ribbons…"

He reached out a hand, stepping close and running a few strands of her hair through his fingers. She flinched, eyes burning with anger, but didn't push him away.

"…I'd bring that nice little ass to wherever I say we're going."

Emily smacked his hand away. "This has to do with the Jokerz, doesn't it?"

He shrugged, grinning wickedly. "Maybe…"

She stood under his predatory gaze for a long moment, trying to calm down long enough to think. Her mother was in danger. That overrode everything else, even this pain-in-the-ass.

"Fine. Take me to her. But if you ever touch me again, I swear to God I will personally castrate you."

She tugged the side door to the truck open and climbed inside, silently hoping that Melanie hadn't been hurt too badly. With Jokerz, that was a slim chance, but still she hoped. The spiky-haired asshole got in next to her, still grinning like a demonic Cheshire cat.

"Buckle up, sweetness. Wouldn't want to see that pretty face splattered on my windshield."

"Shut up and drive, asshole."

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Melanie had a splitting headache.

That was what woke her—a line of fire spreading from the right temple to her jawline. She was lying on her back on a lumpy mattress, eyes cracking open slowly as she cradled the side of her face. The world swam around her for a second, then slowly righted itself. Melanie stared up at the ceiling, seeing herself in a mirror mounted there. A sudden sensory memory flashed in her mind; a hot mouth on her neck, brown strands of hair sweeping over the sides of her face, the smell of sweat and smoke nearly suffocating her, her own pale face in the mirror, contorted with pain from his touch. Zack's apartment.

She sat up, her pale eyes fixing on a figure seated in front of the bed, arms leaning on knees, a gold antique lighter flicking open and closed between long fingers yellowed from many years of smoking.

"Mornin', Mel. Did you sleep well?"

She gave him nothing but a blank mask of indifference. "Not really."

Zack chuckled darkly, rising to his feet. He wasn't in his usual trashy attire but in a navy suit and black dress shirt with a light blue tie elegantly knotted at his throat. His unkempt hair was even smoothed back with gel and in a ponytail. Something was up.

He walked slowly towards her, lines of laughter still gracing his face, black eyes sparkling falsely. Melanie stiffened, but didn't back down from his gaze, eyes following him warily. He came to stand beside the bed, making no move to touch her, only flicking the lighter on and admiring the small flame.

"I need to understand something, Mel, and I can't do that unless we come to some sort of an arrangement."

Her lips curled in a sneer. "What's your definition of an 'arrangement'? I give you what you want or you kill me? Like I haven't heard _that_ one before."

Zack smirked. "You're such a cynic, babe. I can assure you that you won't be harmed in any way. Louie just had a few questions for ya. For instance…"

He snapped the lighter closed suddenly.

"Why was Batman sniffing around the club last night?"

A wave of nausea flooded through her body. Melanie fought to keep her expression blank, but her insides twisted violently from shock.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded in a steady voice. A dry chuckle escaped the Joker leader.

"Don't play dumb, Mel—you're not good at it. Just tell me how you got in contact with the Bat and this will all be over soon."

"I didn't 'get in contact' with anyone, least of all Batman. How stupid do you think I am?" she shot back, rising to her feet.

Zack smirked. "On a scale of one to ten…?"

"Fuck you, Zack."

He chuckled again, a sound that made a cold shiver slide down her spine, and pocketed the lighter, meeting her eyes.

"See, this is usually the part where I grab you by the neck and threaten to kill you. But I'm not gonna do that."

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, then it opened, spilling four Jokerz into the room, one dragging a familiar face.

"Emily!" Melanie cried, rushing forward. The white-haired (the only one without face-paint) clucked his tongue, pressing the barrel of a gun under the nineteen year-old's chin. Melanie froze in mid-motion. Emily flinched and stilled under his grip, her eyes wet with shame.

"I'm sorry, Ma."

Melanie shook her head faintly, a bitter smile finding its way on her lips.

"It's not your fault, Meri."

"As touching as this reunion is, " Zack interrupted, drawing everyone's attention back to him as he paced along the foot of the bed. "You have a choice to make, Mel. Tell me how Batman ended up at the club or watch your daughter suffer."

He snapped his fingers and two Jokerz came forward, grabbing her arms roughly while the white-haired Joker dragged Emily towards the bed, the gun pressed into her side, and flung her onto it. Melanie screamed "NO!", struggling frantically to no avail as the scum straddled her daughter's waist, running his fingers through her hair slowly. The girl turned her head, shrieking, her wrists cuffed and pinned above her head by one of his large hands.

"Let's try again, shall we? Who did you contact last night after you woke up?"

Tears were pouring down Melanie's face in rivulets, her voice hoarse and choked.

"Terry. Terry McGinnis. He took me home."

"And what happened after that?"

"We talked and then he left."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Micah?"

Emily shrieked again as Micah licked the side of her neck, who laughed as she struggled underneath him and sat on her legs so she couldn't kick him off.

"Where did he go, Mel?" Zack asked again, lifeless eyes narrowing at the shaking woman.

"I told you, I don't know!"

"Well, you'd think of something useful because I'm losing my patience!" he snapped back, the retort punctuated by another frightened yelp from the helpless Emily.

"I've seen the way Batman treated you when you were still in that bullshit Royal Flush Gang. There was something there; I know it. So either you tell me what you know or things can get very, very nasty."

Melanie bowed her head, a defeated terror choking her to momentary silence. She had to choose: betray the love of her life or her own daughter?

"…_He's Batman."_

Zack bent his face near hers, hardly breathing to better hear her.

"What did you say?"

"Terry McGinnis is Batman. I was in his car. I saw a batarang in the glove compartment. He was following me on my last shift. I swear to God it's true. Please…leave my daughter alone."

Turning away, Zack nodded to Micah, who pouted and crawled off of Emily after whispering something that made her turn her face away, black tears crawling down her pale cheeks as her mascara ran. The two Jokerz released Melanie, who collapsed to her knees and didn't move. Zack opened the door, motioning for his men and they all filed out, leaving the women in the quickly fading light of afternoon.

Slowly, Emily stood, pulling down the hem of her shirt and stumbling over to her mother, collapsing to her knees in front of her. The older woman still didn't move, just whispered,

"I'm sorry, Meri. I'm so sorry…"

Her daughter kissed the top of her head, looping her arms over Melanie's head and pulling her into a hug.

"It's okay, Mom. It's okay…"

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Outside, Zack turned to the tallest of four Jokerz.

"Watch 'em. If they try to escape, kill 'em. Moe, you and Rashad wait at Melanie's house. I don't want there to be enough of this guy to wipe up with a sponge. Be creative. The Drop Off's goin' down tonight. The Bat is not about to shut us down. Micah, you're with me. You have three hours."

Nodding, they split up and went down the narrow hallway to the elevator.

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A/N: BLAH. I totally hate this chapter. It felt overdramatic and whiny. But then again, I'm very self-critical. But I hope Emily's character turned out alright. I have a lot in store for her next chapter. It might be the final one, but I doubt it. I've been planning to do an epilogue. Ha. An epilogue for "Epilogue". (is hit with Lame Pun mallet)

The Surprise:

I made a Terry/Melanie animated music video that is based on the title of this story and the lyrics in chapters eight and nine. If I get ten reviews, I will post it on my profile page and you can enjoy all of its shippiness. (dangles it in front of your hungry faces) So tell your friends or review earlier chapters. I've been told the vid is quite good.

Thanks for all of your support and I hope to have the next chapter up within the month. Don't forget to review and let me know how you think the story is going.

Kyoko


	12. Trust Me

**Here's Your Letter**

Chapter 12

A/N: ZOMG SORRY. I am really drawing blanks on this story even though it's one of the better ones I've written. It's starting to get a bit tricky developing curves to throw at you guys. But I really am trying. Forgive me. I hope the Terry/Melanie video I posted on my profile makes it up to you.

And here's the chapter.

Kyoko

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Debra Gardner glanced up from her English 101 as the Dressing Room door to The Dark Fantasy opened, spilling a fat man who stunk of Bourbon into the room. He was short and round with greasy black hair slicked back away from his bald spot, beady eyes darting around the area suspiciously. He wore a cheap red suit with a white tie and stalked his way over to Debra's chair in short, quick strides.

"Oy, Debs! Where's Mel? She was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago!"

The silver-haired girl returned to her book, indifferent to his distress.

"Haven't seen her."

"What the hell does **that** mean? Call her and tell her to bring her skinny ass in here or she won't get paid for the rest of the month!"

"Yeah, yeah, Louie. I'm sure she just got stuck in traffic." Debra replied boredly, leaning her head on her hand and trying to ignore the low thrum of music leaking into the room from the open door. Louie adjusted his tie, a nervous habit of his, and smoothed back his hair.

"That had better be it. Call her now. I'm goin' back up to my office."

Pausing, he peered over her shoulder at the book. "What's this?"

"None of your business."

He snatched the book out from under her hands and tipped the spine upward, snorting as he read it aloud.

"English 101? Yeah, like you can understand this shit, Debs."

Her grey eyes narrowed to steely slits. Debra grabbed it from him and sat it back down on the dresser. Louie grinned wide enough to expose the gold fillings in his mouth.

"Think Gotham U is looking for a stripper? Give it up. What makes you think you can get in?"

She rolled her eyes and turned back around in her chair, going back to her studying.

"I don't plan on being a stripper for the rest of my life, fatass."

"Right." He retreated with a snort, barking orders at another girl as he exited the room. Debra looked up as the brunette stripper, Sylvie, returned fresh off the stage, sighing as she tugged off the four-inch stilettos."

"You seen Melanie yet?"

Sylvie shook her head and sat down next to her, picking up a face cloth to remove her heavy makeup.

"Nope. Hopefully, she's in a better place than we are right now."

Debra spared her a small smile that was bitter at the edges. The brunette paused as she saw it, russet eyes softening. She sighed again and turned to the younger girl.

"Look, sweetie… I'm leaving tomorrow. For good. And I want you to leave with me."

Debra blinked, shocked. "What?"

"I have a way out—a new job. And I want you to have a better life than this."

Sylvie searched through her makeup kit and handed Debra a business card. "Call this number and they'll set you up with a better job in an office. C'mon, Debbie, you hate it here. You're a great girl. You deserve better."

Debra stared at the card, not really seeing it as her mind began to whirl with thoughts. Leave? Could she? Would her life be any better outside of this place?

"Sylvie, I… thank you." She said finally, squeezing the older woman's hand and smiling at her with warm eyes. The brunette returned it and rose to go get her clothes from the wall of hangars on the right side of the room. Debra picked up her cell phone and called Melanie, excitement creating flutters in her stomach.

Instead, a low, growling voice answered the phone.

"Melanie's indisposed. Call back later."

She nearly dropped the phone. She'd heard the man attached to that voice laugh before. He was one of the Jokerz in Zack's clan.

Something was wrong, so terribly wrong…

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"Why…why didn't you tell me about him?"

The question was soft, quiet, and without malice, but it still made Melanie's eyes flinch at the corners. The two women sat on the bed; Melanie with her knees drawn up to her chest, handcuffed arms wrapped around them; Emily with her head leaned against the wooden bedpost at the foot of the mattress. One of the Jokerz, Blazer, stood at the door, his beefy arms crossed like the perfect bodyguard. Neither women had tried to escape but he wasn't taking any chances. Both had been known to be unpredictable. The other Joker, Blade, was just outside the door, making sure no one dared enter.

"Because…I…I didn't want you to know how it all happened. It was better for you to raise me myself than to drag him into a life he didn't want." Melanie whispered hoarsely, still hiding her face behind a sheet of blonde hair. Stubborn lines formed on Emily's forehead as she turned to face her mother.

"What are you talking about? He made that choice and he should have stuck around long enough to accept the consequences!"

Melanie shook her head. "No, you don't understand. He didn't know. I didn't tell him. We'd already broken up by the time I found out."

"Then you should have stood up to him, Mom! He's a freakin' _billionaire_! You wouldn't have suffered half as much if he'd been there!" There was fury in Emily's voice, outrage, and it reminded Melanie so much of herself; all the anger that had eaten away at her soul because she hadn't been strong enough to take the chance. The older woman lifted her face, eyes hardening until they were once again as cold as winter skies.

"Emily, money wasn't the issue! You can't understand that at your age because you weren't there. There is **nothing** in your life that has weighed as much as my decision. I did what I thought was best for you and if that meant you growing up without a father then so be it! Yes, he was a good man. Yes, I loved him. But love isn't enough, Emily. It just isn't. You can either accept that now or later on in life."

The young girl's face twisted in disbelief, her slender hands balling into fists. "Well, what if I _wanted_ to know what he was like? Do you know how many times I used to sneak into your room and look at that photograph? I wondered night after night whether or not he loved me and why he would leave us alone in that pathetic life. You should have at least let me see him. You didn't have to protect me!"

Melanie didn't answer, shocked by her daughter's response. Words caught in her throat, making it feel dry and scratchy. She shook her head, turning her eyes away bitterly.

"Yes, I did. I didn't want you to grow up in a broken home. Terry and I weren't meant foe each other or we would have been together."

"If you really believe that…then you deserved to be alone."

Something inside Melanie burned as her daughter spoke those words and something in the girl's tone sounded like her father. That condescending, unforgiving spirit that had passed down in the Royal Flush Gang and she had wished so hard that it would never reach her own child. She pressed her lips together until they began to hurt, fighting the pain spilling out from her chest and the hot tears scorching the corners of her eyes.

"Is the Sob Fest over, ladies? I can't take much more of this sappy shit," Blazer interrupted, a sneer curling on his painted face. Emily turned her cold eyes on him, eyeing him with disgust.

"Piss off, you shithead. Go play with your little boyfriend outside."

The big white man growled suddenly, lowering his arm and clenching his hands into fists. "Watch that tongue, shortie. Or I'll cut it out."

She rolled her eyes in return, muttering, "Pussy" under her breath. A nasty grin spread across his mouth suddenly.

"If I wanted that, I'd ask your mom."

Emily leapt from the bed, anger boiling in her system like a drug, and only stopped because Melanie grabbed her arms. "What did you say, asshole?"

"Calm down, Meri." Her mother assured her gently. "This guy's just jealous that he never got a piece of Zack."

Blazer's face contorted in rage, which was offset by the purple mullet and face paint.

"What did you say, bitch?"

Melanie stepped in front of Emily, a condescending smirk gracing her lips.

"You heard me. I know you were jealous that I was screwing him. I used to watch you glare at me from across the room. You wanted him **so bad**, didn't you? It just made you _sick_."

"Go to hell, bitch." It came out in a low grumble. Melanie's cruel smile widened.

"I'd love to. Maybe you and Zack can meet down there and have a **real** party."

Swearing, the big man pushed off from the wall and crossed the room, intent on causing her pain. He threw a punch and Melanie ducked, sweeping his legs out from under him. He fell hard on the wooden part of the foot of the bed and lay there for a moment, stunned. Melanie straddled his back and looped the chain to her handcuffs around her neck and squeezed. He gagged, writhing. Emily grabbed his arms and held them down while he flopped around, trying to get loose. Slowly, his limbs began to slow until he stopped moving altogether. Melanie let go and felt for his pulse. He was unconscious and Blade hadn't heard a thing.

Emily fell back on her butt, breathing in erratic gasps that sounded on the verge of panic. She stared at the unmoving man on the floor, a fine trembling flowing up her spine and across her arms. Melanie fished around in his pockets and unlocked her cuffs. She grabbed Emily's face between her hands, forcing the girl to look into her eyes.

"Meri, listen to me. _Listen to me!_" The girl fixed her eyes on her mother, tears beginning to gather at the edges.

"You have to keep it together. He isn't dead. If you want to get out of this alive, you have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

Emily nodded shakily. "Good. Now give me your hands so I can take your cuffs off."

The girl obliged and Melanie pulled her to her feet, scanning the room for anything that could help them. The window was large enough to let them both escape, but they wouldn't have much time.

"I want you to go to the Police Station and ask for Commissioner Barbara Gordon. Stay with her and tell her that I will call to let her know where Zack's going to be. The Drop Off's going down tonight and if we want him out of our lives forever, we have to do this right. I'm going to go find your father. Can you do that for me?"

Emily nodded again, hugging her mother tightly. "I love you, Mom."

Melanie squeezed her gently. "I love you too, Meri. Be strong. You can do it. Stay safe."

She kissed the girl's forehead just as Blade began to knock on the door, calling for Blazer. Melanie pried open the window and let her daughter out first before crawling out herself. They headed off in separate directions, both silently hoping that the other would be okay.

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Terry opened the door to Melanie's apartment, calling her name to see if she was home yet. The food in his hand was take-out from one of his favorite Italian restaurants, which is where he'd stopped before he got there. The apartment was cold and filled with darkness as usual and no one answered him. He shrugged and walked over to the kitchen, leaving the brown bag on the counter. She would probably be home soon.

He turned to his left and went inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and flicking on the light. It was small and a pale blue color with the shower to the right, curtain drawn, and the toilet against the left wall. He lifted up the toilet seat, sighing.

There was a sudden creak. Terry paused, eyes at once acute and ears tuned into any other sound. Dead silence. He didn't like it.

A man grabbed him from behind, his arm wrapping around Terry's neck, and plunged a knife into his shoulder. He yelled, grappling with the attacker and driving him backwards until the man overbalanced and fell into the tub. Terry turned and grabbed the intruder's wrists, keeping the bloody knife at an arm's length. He was a Joker and the realization made rage build in the Dark Knight's veins. He snatched the knife away and tossed it into a corner, punching the gang member once, twice, three times. Blood appeared at the corner of the Joker's mouth and he grabbed Terry around the waist, trying to wrestle him to the ground. Terry drove his knee into the guy's chest, winding him, and kicked him in the chin. He collapsed onto the floor in a writhing pile, groaning from the wounds. The door burst open.

Terry turned just in time to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. It went off and suddenly he was deaf. The world swam for a moment and he ended up staring up at the ceiling, black swirling around the edge of the world until it ate his entire vision.

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HAHA. A cliff-hanger. If you don't review, **you'll never find out what happens**. So review. :D


	13. Hit the Gas

**Here's Your Letter**

Chapter 13

A/N: Had you guys goin' there for a second, didn't I? I'm proud of that last cliff-hanger. For what good it did me in reviews… anyway, enjoy another heart-stopping chapter! Rated for one F-bomb and some language.

Kyoko

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"What the hell do you mean _'they're gone'_?"

"I came back in here to ask Blaze for some smokes and I find him on the floor, unconscious and the women are gone. I swear, man, they were in there the last time I checked. He must've let his guard down or somethin',"

Zack began swearing in both French and English, making the black Joker on the phone very nervous.

"Find them. I don't care what it takes—you find them and you bring them to me. If you don't, I swear to God I'll cut your balls off and feed them to my dogs. Do you hear me, dreg?"

There was an audible gulp on the other side. "Y-Yeah, I got you, boss."

Zack hung up and ran a hand through his hair, ripping off the ponytail. He shouldn't have trusted that dumbass Blazer. Stupid shit. If Melanie or Emily ratted him out, Gordon would have her men down there in an instant and his whole operation would be shut down. The dark-haired man shook his head, trying to compose himself. No. He'd grown too powerful in this town to let that happen. No more mercy. Sure, he liked Melanie but she had reached the end of the line. He had to kill her and he had to kill her tonight.

A ship off the coast blared its foghorn suddenly, drawing Zack's attention back to the harbor. That was the signal. The ship would be there in less than an hour. He exhaled slowly, slightly reassured.

Not a moment later, his cell phone buzzed from inside his suit jacket. He answered it with an angry, "WHAT?"

"It's done. We killed the Bat."

Zack fell silent for a second. "Say that again?"

"We got him. He's dead. Do you want us to stash the body?"

A flood of relief spread through the Joker leader's chest. "Nah, leave 'im. It'll send a message to his keeper, Gordon. Meet me here in fifteen minutes so we can get this show on the road."

"Sure thing, boss." He hung up. So far, so good.

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Rashad helped Moe to his feet, chuckling at his fellow clansman tauntingly.

"Damn, he tagged you good, Moe."

Moe spit a mouthful of blood in Terry's direction, glaring at his body. "Shut up. Asshole nearly broke my damn jaw. Put one through his head."

Rashad let go of his arm as the other man jerked it away. "No need to make a mess. Headshots splatter like a mo'fo."

He paused as he heard a ringing sound, like that of a cell phone. "That your phone?"

Moe blinked at him. "Nah. Maybe the bitch left hers here."

Rashad shook his head, frowning and tilting his head. "Uh-uh. Sounds like it's coming from somewhere close…"

With wide eyes, he looked around Moe to find that Terry's body was missing. A sharp pain exploded in the back of his neck before he toppled forward, too stunned to catch himself. Moe yelped, eyes as wide as plates as Terry McGinnis stared him down, breathing hard and clutching the wound in his chest. The frightened thug backed away slowly, pointing a shaky, accusing finger.

"N-No way, man! He shot you! I saw him do it!"

A grim smile slid across the Dark Knight's lips. "Ever heard of Kevlar, asshole?"

He moved too quickly for the Joker to follow and punched him at the base of his jaw, breaking it and rendering the criminal unconscious.

"And for the record, **that's** what it feels like when someone breaks your jaw."

Grimacing, Terry reached in his leather jacket's inner pocket to find his phone with a bullet buried in the silver cover, nearly crumpling it in half. The blunt of the bullet had been absorbed by the phone but the rest had been absorbed by the Batsuit. Terry was no fool. He'd worn it under his clothes on purpose.

A button on the side put whoever it was on speakerphone. "I'm a little busy right now."

"With what? You never checked in."

Terry almost smiled at the sound of his father's voice. "God, I never thought I'd be glad to hear **your** voice again."

There was a snort on the other line. "Are you dying?"

That got him a smile. "Not really, but this stab wound hurts like a bitch."

"Lovely. What have you gotten yourself into _this_ time?"

Terry stared down at the two unconscious, bleeding men on the floor. "Long story. Got anything important to say?"

"You've got a collect call from Japan. Should I give her your number?"

Terry froze, remembering faintly that Dana said she'd be on a plane when he'd read her note. Could that be her?

A beep sounded on his phone. "Sorry, hold on a sec. I've got another call."

He switched over. "Yes?"

"T-Terry McGinnis?"

He recognized the panicked voice at once. "Debra? What is it?"

"It's Melanie. I think she's in trouble again. She hasn't shown up at work all day and she never answered her cell phone."

"That makes sense. I'm in her apartment and I just got attacked by two of Zack's henchmen."

"God, are you alright?" Her voice went up another octave and he winced.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about Melanie, I'll find her. Thanks for calling. Stay away from her house. Go home and protect yourself. This'll all be over soon. I promise."

"Thank you. For everything. She's so lucky to have you in her life." The line went dead. Terry lowered the phone with his good arm, grimacing as more blood dripped from the stab wound in his left shoulder. It wasn't terribly deep, but the suit wasn't great at stopping blades point blank. He knelt and dug around inside Rashad's jacket for the thug's phone. He found it and scrolled through the recently called numbers, smirking in victory as he saw the one he needed.

"Rashad, you here yet?" A deep, growling voice answered.

"I'm afraid not."

The voice on the other side fell silent and only heavy breathing carried over.

"You see, Rashad had a little accident and he told me to give you a message. He told me to tell you, 'Three strikes, you're out.' Said you'd know what it meant."

"Fine. Have your fun, Bats. But I'm the one getting the last laugh out of this. Just you wait and see." Zack's voice was low and filled with barely contained rage. Terry smirked.

"Right. But just remember: he who laughs last thinks slowest. Have a nice night, Zack. I'll be seeing you soon."

Terry hung up and tossed the phone on Rashad's chest and left the room, fresh determination in his eyes.

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Bruce tapped on the speaker of the phone.

"Hello? McGinnis?"

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Maxine Gibson yawned sleepily as her phone rang, staring insolently at it for a moment before reaching across her slumbering husband and picking up.

"This had better be good…"

"Love you too, Max."

She smiled faintly, settling on her back and allowing the pillow to envelop the back of her head.

"I know you do. What on earth do you want from me now?"

"I need a favor. Would you mind cross-referencing a number for me? I don't have a computer handy at the moment."

She groaned. "God, why did I even leave Gotham? My job is still exactly the same."

"And you still love it just the same."

"Shut up." She got up anyway and slumped over to her laptop, plopping down into her chair and opening it. Darryl grunted and turned over onto his stomach, calling over to her.

"Tell McGinnis I said what's up."

Max grinned into the phone. "Darryl says Hi."

"Also tell him if he calls one more time in the next 24 hours, I will fly out to Gotham and personally kick his ass."

She chuckled. "My husband says if you call me again in the next 24 hours, he's gonna fly out to Gotham and kick your ass."

There was a definite smile in Terry's voice. "Tell him I said 'Bring it'."

She laughed again and typed a few things, bringing up the program she needed.

"Alright, _Rambo_, gimme the number."

"555-876-2910."

Max put in the number and hit the Enter key, waiting for the computer to respond.

"Gotham Harbor. I can't get a fix on which dock because your mystery guy has a GPS block. I haven't installed the new codebreaker yet. I'll do that tonight."

"Don't worry about it. I can navigate from there. Thanks a lot, Max."

She smiled gently. "You're welcome."

"Before I go…I have to ask you something. Did you talk to Dana?"

Max jolted guiltily, gnawing on her bottom lip. "Why would you think that?"

"Max. Come on. I know you. Just tell me the truth." He had that tone in his voice, the one that always got under her skin. She closed her eyes for a moment, sighing. He did know her. That was the hardest part about lying to him.

"Ter, I… I just thought she should know the truth. And honestly, I was never one hundred percent sure of how you two felt about each other. I know, I know, I'm being nosy but… I didn't want you to end up with the wrong girl."

She heard him sigh. "I know, Max. Maybe after all of this is over…I'll talk to her then. I appreciate you looking out for me and I always will. Thanks."

She smiled faintly, ignoring the sadness in it. "You're welcome."

"Bye, Max."

"Bye, Ter."

She hung up and leaned back in her chair, an inaudible sigh escaping her lips.

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Roland James, nicknamed RJ by his Joker brethren, lay on his back in the hospital bed, staring irately into the inky darkness at the shadows cast against the wall. He'd been awake for the better part of an hour because every time something moved outside, he thought it was Batman. A sneer curled the big black man's upper lip and he clenched his fist hard enough that it rattled the handcuff on his wrist. That damned anonymous hero in the alleyway. He would be convicted for being a Joker and it was all because of that pretty little skank, Melanie. She owed him a night of entertainment and he had only been enforcing his right to it. Lately, she had been getting uppity about her position between the strip club and the Jokerz.

Something flashed at the corner of his eye. RJ glanced nervously at the window, sitting up and wincing as his broken knee ached from the movement. Blue and black shadows cast themselves over the bed, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. He noticed how his breathing had hitched up and snorted at himself in disgust. What the hell was he afraid of? The Bat wouldn't dare come here; not with all the surveillance the police had on him. And besides, he had the Nurse Call button right—

"Looking for something?"

RJ's eyes snapped to his left and he found Batman no more than a foot from him, holding the Nurse Call button with a grim smirk on his face. The thug twisted in his bed, pushing himself into the pillow and as far away from the specter as he could get.

"What the hell, man?! Back off! I didn't do nuthin'!" he sputtered, moving his arm up and down the bar holding his right arm. The Batman's expression never changed.

"Relax, James. All I need is a location and you can go back to sleep."

Stubborn lines formed on the big man's forehead, looking more sinister now that the ridiculous face paint had been removed. His black eyes narrowed.

"What are you talkin' about, freak? The location of what?"

Batman stepped closer, menace slipping into his voice. "Where's your boss having the Harley dropped off?"

"I don't know nuthin' about that, freak."

Batman tilted his head, stepping back until he was parallel to the traction holding the thug's shattered leg in place. The Joker's face paled considerably as the Dark Knight's hand began reaching for the angle adjustment button.

"Really? Much like I know nothing about how these tractions work." He pressed the button and RJ's leg sank a few abrupt inches. The criminal hissed sharply in pain, grabbing at his leg desperately.

"Back up off me, man! I'll bring the cops in here—I swear!"

"They're on a coffee break courtesy of Commissioner Gordon. I'll ask you again: where's the Drop Off going down?"

"Go to hell!"

His knee dropped several inches, spreading a line of fire up to his thigh. RJ swore aloud, rattling his handcuff in an attempt to free his arm. Batman's eyes narrowed, his finger inching for the button again.

"Alright, alright! _Jesus!_ It's at the Harbor."

"Which dock?"

"47C. Zack's having the Russians pick the Harley up in an hour or so tonight."

Batman lowered his hand, sparing the thug a condescending smirk. "See? Now was that so hard."

RJ chuckled darkly, ignoring the pain. "Laugh while you still can, Bats. Zack's gonna fuck you up."

The Dark Knight saluted him mockingly. "We'll see about that."

Someone knocked on the door, drawing RJ's attention away for a split second. It was the cops telling him to shut up in there. When he looked back, Batman had vanished.

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"What am I looking at, Lebowski?"

"Not anything good, I'm afraid. The Harley we've confiscated before is nothing compared to this new stuff they've got. It's more, for lack of a better word, _advanced_."

Commissioner Gordon sighed and removed her glasses, rubbing her sinuses in small circles. "Tell me something I don't know, doc."

The pale, balding man pushed up his own glasses, flustered as he looked through his notes for something useful.

"Before, the Jokerz could only use this stuff in injections like heroine but now they've refined it. It can be processed into a substance similar to tobacco and smoked as well. The effects, however, have changed drastically compared to the injected kind. The smoke causes hallucinations, heightened senses, adrenaline rush, the works. Once the immune system becomes used to it, there's no outside effect. A new body can reject it if the circumstances aren't just right."

"What do you mean 'reject it'?"

Dr. Lebowski's face set into grim lines. "Same way kids die by using cocaine. Their systems can't take that kind of pressure. The smoke can cause heart failure, brain damage, or even death."

She swore softly, clasping her hands together tightly and resting them on her lips.

"How are they making this stuff? Where do they get the equipment?"

He shrugged. "Plenty of ways. Since they became more organized, the Jokerz have assigned entire task forces to making it underground. They've acquired stocks and businesses to cover for the operations. The money that comes in from the streets pays for the materials. We haven't quite isolated the products yet, but we're slowly making progress—"

"Lebowski, I don't want progress, I want results! I want to nail these creeps before they infect this city and the rest of the world with that stuff! Now tell me if you've got something useful for me or get the hell out of my office." Gordon retorted harshly, steely eyes narrowing. Dr. Lebowski coughed nervously into his hand and handed her a profile, stammering slightly as he replied.

"That's the leader of the entire organization: Zachary Montell. Intel's been digging at him for a while now but they haven't come up with much. He's got way too much knowledge of how to slip through the system."

A small smirk crossed the older woman's lips, her pale eyes flicking up to look at him. "That's because he hasn't had me on his tail before. I'll run the specs on this guy personally."

An officer knocked on the door and she waved him in. "Gordon, there's a girl out here who says she needs your help."

Gordon arched an eyebrow. "I'm busy. Why didn't you assign her to another officer?"

The policeman shook his head. "She won't talk to anyone else but you. She says she has news from a Melanie Walker."

The Commissioner's eyes widened. "Walker…? I've heard that name before… That's the name of the girl from the Royal Flush Gang."

Gordon stood and followed him out the door. They went down the hallway to the entrance of the GCPD entrance where a teenage girl sat next to another officer, head bent forward, light brown hair hiding her face. She looked up as Gordon approached, thin tracks of tears shining on her pale cheeks.

"What is it, honey? How do you know Melanie Walker?" she questioned.

"My name's Emily. She's my mother. The Jokerz are after her and she sent me here to tell you she'll contact you when she finds out where Zack is going to be."

Gordon's blue eyes widened again. "That's quite a boast. Lewis?" The officer who brought her the news stepped forward. "Take her upstairs and get her some coffee. She looks like death warmed over."

She touched the girl's shoulder reassuringly. "Relax, kid. We'll get these guys and your mom will be fine."

Emily nodded and followed the policeman. Gordon watched her go and jumped suddenly as her cell phone rang.

"Gordon here?"

"Evening, Commish."

A smirk touched her lips. It still amused her that he still called her that. It was mostly out of habit.

"You know I don't like it when you use this line. What do you want?"

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in attending tonight's weenie roast."

She paused for a handful of seconds. "You know where the Drop Off's gonna be, don't you?"

"Why not send your retirement off with a bang?"

Gordon grinned. "I hear that. Send me coordinates ASAP. You'd better be right about this, kid."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'd be more sure if you would stop calling me 'kid'."

"Old habits die hard."

"That's been disproved: Bruce is still alive."

She chuckled. "True. I'll meet you there. Later, kid."

"Later, Commish."

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"Hey, Marge!"

Officer Brenda Marge turned her head, pausing in the hallway as Officer Henry Lewis called to her.

"What's up?"

He stopped in front of her, breathless and gesturing to behind him. "Could you pick up a call at my desk? I'm supposed to be watchin' this kid for Gordon. Just for a second—I'll be right there."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. You owe me one."

Lewis grinned and tipped an imaginary hat at her, jogging away. "I sure do!"

The break room was down the hallway to the right and had a sliding door that opened when you stepped in front of it. Lewis came in through the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks.

Emily Walker had vanished.

He closed his eyes for a second. "Please, God, tell me she went to the bathroom."

His eyes darted through the hallway, searching for a slender form and light brown hair. The office across from them had someone in it, a secretary.

"Hey, Dolores!"

The large woman glanced up at him through half-moon spectacles. "Yes?"

"You seen a teenage girl around here? Skinny, blue eyes, light brown hair?"

"Yeah. She said she went to find Commissioner Gordon to tell her something."

He sighed in relief, waving to her in gratitude. "I love you."

The cop rushed back down a flight of stairs to Commissioner Gordon's office, which was now swarming with officers as she read out coordinates for what appeared to be a drug bust. He managed to squeeze his way up to her desk, searching for the girl along the way.

"Hey, where's the Walker kid? Dolores said she was with you."

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "She didn't come to see me, Lewis."

Lewis gulped, his face turning ghostly pale. "She…didn't?"

The older woman paused, lowering the walkie-talkie from her mouth. "Don't tell me you lost her."

"I…didn't lose her?"

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_DING-DONG!_

Bruce Wayne, legendary billionaire, snorted himself awake in his chair at the loud sound of his doorbell ringing. The ancient man blinked blearily around the room until his eyes settled on a clock. It was nearly half-past eleven. A growl slipped out of his mouth as he pushed to his feet with the help of his cane, shuffling slowly towards the front door to the Mansion and hoping that it was a Jehovah witness so he could sick one of the robotic security guards on him or her. Grunting, he heaved open the tall wooden oak door to find a skinny teenage girl standing there with a look of determination on her face.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for Terry McGinnis. He's my father."

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A/N: MUAHAHAHA! I AM SO EVIL, AREN'T I?

So review and tell me how much you hate me. :D Your hatred fills me with power…


	14. Deep Ending

Here's Your Letter 

**Chapter 14**

A/N: This story is coming to a close, folks. There may be an Epilogue (Hah, an epilogue after "Epilogue". I'm so clever.), but this is just about done. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of my wonderful reviewers and other silent people who read this story but didn't review. When I see the Hit List, it makes me feel cool. Keep it up and enjoy the chapter.

Kyoko

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The collective mass of brown bats hanging above them in the Cave made her nervous. He could see it in her body language, the way she tucked her arms under her chest, the occasional flicking of her eyes upward to study their position lest they flew down and nested in her hair. It almost made him smile. He was the same way for a while when he'd first been in here.

Since Wayne was nearing his second century in age and Max had quit being Batgirl some time ago, Terry had ordered new Nanobots to patch him up when his injuries were more than he could handle. They were miniscule little things—about the size of nickels—that crawled up one shoulder, scanning the expanse of his bare chest with tiny sensors until they detected the problem. The five of them opened a panel in the top of their metal bodies and withdrew needles attached to black thread for stitching. The last one had the decency to inject a needle into his shoulder to numb it, though he winced slightly from the pain.

Silence built upon itself as the tiny AI robots went to work on stitching his shoulder. Nothing plausible rose in Terry's mind to say to his daughter, his own child, whom he'd never met in person before in his life. It took a lot of will power not to study her, to see how much of her personality was like his, to notice the features that she had taken from his side of the family. Terry just stared at the floor, ignoring the prick of the Nanobots' legs in his skin.

When Emily finally spoke, her voice was steady and cold. "Why did you leave her?"

She watched something flicker across his face, maybe pain or guilt, and kept her face cool and controlled as she waited for his response.

"I…I thought she wasn't going to change. She used me once and I couldn't let her do it again so I never talked to her after we broke up."

Emily's pale eyes narrowed at him. "What about me? Would you have come back if you knew she was pregnant?"

He took his time with the question, frowning as he thought about how he'd thrown away her note, how he'd written the new one and stuffed it in his dashboard.

"Maybe. That wasn't the only problem between us. We had lost the trust of our relationship."

Terry glanced up at her, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "But I don't suppose that's what you wanted to hear, is it?"

She looked away from his gaze, a conflagration of emotions swimming around in her eyes and across her face.

"I…I don't know. Part of me wants to hate you, but the other part isn't sure. Mom didn't have the courage to tell you the truth so honestly, I think you're both wusses."

The smile spread across his mouth and he was suddenly glad she wasn't looking at him any more. She had most certainly inherited his smart mouth.

Emily glanced back at him and his smile melted. "So who's the old man? Your dad? Your **grand**dad?"

"He's the closest thing I have to a father, yes. I've been working for him since I was sixteen. My Dad was murdered right before I came to work for him."

The first sign of an emotion other than anger went through her eyes and it was pity.

"I'm sorry."

Terry shook his head. "Don't apologize. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I don't even where to start—"

"You can start by putting that scumbag Zack six feet under."

His head snapped up, eyes widening. She was scowling now, her young face twisted in utter disgust from just mentioning the name.

"How much do you know about him?" Terry demanded unsteadily; fear suddenly flooding into his chest and making his stomach form a knot. Emily tucked her arms tighter under one another, her eyes becoming distant with horror.

"Enough. My mom borrowed money from him after I was born and he made her pay it back in sweat and blood. I hated him so much when I was little. He would come over every once in a while and torture her, remind her of how worthless she was and how he owned her. Once I was old enough to fight, he would have one of his Joker flunkies hold me back, kick me around a little to keep me off him. I only hit him once, when I was thirteen, right in the mouth. I'll never forget that moment for as long as I live."

When she looked back at him, Terry was gripping the edge of the stretcher he was sitting on hard enough that it was beginning to bend the metal on the bottom, his head bowed so that the shadows hid his eyes. She stayed where she was, though some part of her wanted to take a step back because she didn't know how he would react or what he would do next. He was The Batman, after all.

The Nanobots finished patching up his shoulder and trooped down his left arm in a line, crawling back into the little plastic tray they came from and shutting themselves down. Terry stood, hands gripped in fists, and stalked towards the changing room to suit up. Emily stayed in that same spot, listening to his footsteps echo through the Cave.

"Will you kill him?"

The footsteps stopped. "I don't kill, Emily. You know that, don't you?"

"Will you kill him for me?" Her voice had lost some of its steadiness and it sounded like she was shaking slightly.

"Emily…"

She whirled on him, hot tears beginning to edge from her eyes. "Why not? Do you know what he did to her, right in front of me?! Do you know the things he said to her? No. You don't. Because you weren't there. You weren't there for the woman you loved and you weren't there for me. I **hate** you! _I hate you!_" she shouted, her voice growing hoarse and choked with a sob. She closed her eyes, giving into the sorrow and the pain that had consumed her soul from her broken childhood.

She didn't hear him any more, but just felt warm, strong arms wrap around her back and her forehead pressed into his chest. She didn't try to pull away because she was too tired, too tired of bearing the weight alone and trying to be strong both for herself and her mother.

"Why weren't you there? Why didn't you stop him?" she whispered. He held her tighter, pressing his lips against the top of her head.

"I know I wasn't there for you when you needed me, Emily, but…I promise that I will stop him and make him pay for everything that he did to you and your mother." He said in a low voice, gently stroking her hair.

"Swear it."

"I swear."

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_CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CL-_

"I swear to God, if you open or close that damn lighter one more time, I am going to throw you off this dock."

Smirking, Micah looked up at his boss from his plain silver lighter. He leaned against the eighteen wheeler parked in front of the edge of the docking bay, waiting alongside Zack as the European cruiser glided slowly but surely towards them.

"Man, how long is this gonna take? I gotta hot date with Melanie's daughter soon." The white-haired Joker groaned in annoyance, flipping the small lighter over the backs of his long, pale fingers. Zack snorted to himself.

"Patience, Mike. You can play with her all night if you want as long as she ends up dead before tomorrow morning. And can you make it look natural this time? People don't normally die from overdosing on Lysol." He added, turning to frown at the thug, who only grinned and shrugged.

"You'd be surprised."

At last, the massive ship began to dock: the men aboard motioning to those ashore to tie off the heavy chains for docking. Zack straightened his tie for what seemed like the fortieth time in the last hour and watched the automatic bridge unfold from the edge of the liner, peering nervously up at the person descending it.

"Zachary."

"Milla." Zack held out a hand and helped the smiling woman off the pier. She was taller than him by an inch or so with black hair slicked back from her pale, slender face except for curled tendrils in front of her ears. Her eyes were a green so light that they seemed to bleed across her entire eye, leaving the pupils dark pits on her face. Her svelte form was encased in a floor-length black leather dress, complete with a matching jacket and boots. The smile on her shiny red lips was that of a predator watching its prey with amusement, as she did now while Zack made a show of kissing her hand.

"I'm glad you could make it."

Her English was flawless, but the words came out slow and sensuous, as if she considered each word carefully before letting it slip from her tongue.

"I would not miss it for the world, dear Zachary. Where is the cargo?"

Micah rapped on the metal of the truck he was leaning against, cracking a fanged smile at the mistress.

"Right here, Madam."

Milla snapped her fingers and men dressed in black as well began to pour down from the deck, heading for the back of the eighteen-wheeler.

"Excellent. I trust that all of the Harley is in place?"

Zack nodded. "It's all there."

Milla bent and handed him the briefcase she had been carrying. "Then as agreed, forty-five million of your credits. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Zachary. I hope to do it again soon."

"I doubt he'll be available."

Zack's head snapped in the direction where a cold voice came from, eyes widening. Melanie emerged from the shadows, a gun pointed steadily at his head.

"Any of you move and I'll blow his head off. Then who'll make your precious Harley?"

The men paused, looking towards Milla for instructions. The tall woman's eyes were fixed on the blonde woman and she seemed to be studying her carefully. At last, she nodded and they dropped their boxes. Zack shook his head.

"You just don't get it, do you Mel? You can't win no matter what you do. Killing me won't change the fact that you're a worthless, stupid whore."

A shot went off less than an inch from his foot as he stepped forward to emphasize his point. There was nothing human on Melanie's face, nothing remotely resembling anything other than blind rage.

"Shut up, Zack. For once in your life, just _shut the fuck up_."

He closed his mouth. "You don't quite realize what kind of situation you're in right now, do you? You can't talk your way out of this one. No more arguments. No more 'negotiations'. I am going to make sure that you lose every last thing that you ever had."

She stepped closer, her arm never wavering, icy eyes boring deep into the dark pits of his.

"For years, I have sacrificed myself, my pride, and my daughter all because I wasn't strong enough to take control of my own life. Time after time, I would tell myself that it would all be worth it someday if I could protect Meri. It was an excuse. I became a pitiful, penniless instrument of your will and for what? For my daughter to hate me and for my life to be a living hell? Well, I've had enough. You are scum. You've always been scum. And after I kill you, this city will have one less piece of shit to worry about because you are nothing but a coward who manipulates people to get what he wants."

A slow chuckle built in Zack's throat until it spilled out of his mouth, a low, rumbling bray that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. When he finally stopped laughing, his eyes were black as the night sky. She sneered at him.

"What are you laughing at?"

He wiped the corner of his eyes, still giggling a bit. "What? You still don't get the joke?"

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "What joke?"

"This one-!"

Melanie whirled, too late, to discover Micah behind her and screamed as razor sharp claws raked down her arm. The gun clattered uselessly to the ground and skidded over to Zack's feet. She clutched the wound, trying to stop the blood that began to pour from the spot between her arm and shoulder. Micah grinned nastily down at her, his hands long and thin with curved claws at the end splashed with scarlet.

"Meow."

Zack clucked his tongue at her, bending to retrieve the fallen weapon and walking over to her.

"You forgot that I always have an ace up my sleeve. Sorry, Mel. There's a happy ending in this picture but…you're just not in it."

He shot her twice in the chest and tossed the gun to Micah. Milla sighed in relief and waved to her men, staring at the blood that began to pool around Melanie's body.

"You had me frightened for a moment there, Zachary."

He kissed the back of her hand once more, lifting the briefcase slightly. "Thanks for the money, doll. See you soon."

Zack turned to go but something sliced through the air and bit through the straps of the briefcase, causing it to sail out of his hands and into the ocean. He stared open-mouthed at the case as it began to sink, too shocked to even swear. A shadow fell over him as he whirled around, finding his gaze matching that of The Batman's, who had appeared on top of the eighteen-wheeler. The Batman's eyes fell on the lifeless form of Melanie Walker and widened, horror and disbelief spreading across his face. She was…she was…

"You're a little late for the party, Bats. Sorry you missed her." Micah called up to him, slowly and deliberately licking the blood from his monstrous claws. Batman's blank white eyes snapped to his. The white haired Joker-splicer's eyes were a pale blue the color of a snow leopard's: rare and deadly. Fury began to build in Batman's body, flowing like water up his back and down his arms, making his fists clench so hard that his fingernails left imprints in his palms.

Milla looked between the three men for a moment before pointing an accusing finger at the Dark Knight.

"What are you just standing there for? Kill him!"

Several of the men in black dropped the cargo and began climbing on top of the truck. Batman snapped…

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I cut this chapter short mainly because I'm drawing a serious blank on the final scenes. Please forgive me for the cliffhanger. I'll keep marinating the final two chapters and give you something great hopefully. Thanks for all of your support.

Kyoko


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